


A Matter of Time

by ecrutea



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Adulthood, F/M, Future Fic, Relationship(s), Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrutea/pseuds/ecrutea
Summary: Being at the tail end of her twenties and still single, Makoto feels like giving up in the battlefield of love and dating. Everything she thought she knew about love, she has to learn again.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Niijima Makoto, Kurusu Akira/Niijima Makoto, Niijima Makoto/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 141
Kudos: 268





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P5R spoilers mentioned, you've been warned! You have also been warned that this is a purely self-indulgent, contemporary romance shumako fic.

Tucked away in the bridal suite, minutes away from her call time, Makoto stood in front of the mirror repeating self-affirmations in her head—things like _I’m beautiful_ and _I’m worthy no matter what—_ to not give in to the self-deprecating thoughts that plagued her ever since she found out Haru got engaged, let alone that Haru wanted her to be her Maid of Honor.

Thoughts such as _Maid of Honor; emphasis on ‘Maid,’ meaning ‘single woman.’_ Or, _I’m not going to find anyone at this rate. I’m going to wind up alone._

She shook her head. _No. Stop it. You promised yourself._

As if she just heard the battle within her head, Haru regarded her with a small frown. Makoto suddenly felt her insides tense. It was Haru’s wedding day, her best friend’s day. This was not the time to think about her insecurities and play the comparison game that major life events tended to evoke.

Haru deserved this happy day with her soon-to-be husband Hokuto. After almost being married off to an abusive scumbag, losing her father and dealing with the trauma of his death broadcasted on national television, and the arduous legal battles surrounding her inheritance—she deserved to be showered with happiness and love, especially on this important day. 

“I’m sorry, Haru. I’m just really happy for you,” Makoto breathed.

Haru stepped close to her, radiant as ever in her Givenchy ballroom-style gown and cathedral veil, and clasped Makoto’s hands in her own. A sign of the support and compassion they’ve always had for each other.

But Haru’s expression fell for the first and only time that day; her downcast eyes did not belong on the face of such a deserving, beautiful bride. “I wish my dad were here to walk me down the aisle,” she said in a shaky voice. 

Makoto inwardly flinched at Haru’s words. She would probably feel the same way if she ever got married. 

“Haru,” she began.

Haru’s watery eyes suddenly lit up. “But, you have no idea how happy I am you’re here with me. How you’ve been with me throughout this whole process. I am so excited you’ll be standing up there with me.” 

Makoto felt her eyes glisten and her chest grow warm. She released a breath, relieved. 

“Me too, Haru,” she squeezed back.

“Okay, let’s talk about something else before I cry and ruin these false lashes,” Haru said, fanning her eyes. 

Makoto sniffled, mirroring her friend’s motions. “Okay. How about how absolutely gorgeous you look right now.”

A playful, haughty grin crept up the bride’s face. “Keep talking.” 

***

The wedding ceremony was flawless. Everything went according to plan: the weather behaved, the hidden microphone on the groom’s lapel perfectly projected their vows, and the Best Man Takeru successfully produced the rings on cue, not a second late. 

And there were no wardrobe malfunctions; Makoto surprisingly didn’t stumble one bit in the four-inch Louboutin heels Haru benevolently mandated for her to wear, along with the light pink chiffon gown a little too fitted at her waist and hips to Makoto’s liking. _My Maid of Honor has to look just as stunning as me_ , Haru grinned. 

Haru and her now-husband, despite their high-class upbringings, were humble in demeanor. However, they did not hold back when it came to bathing their three-hundred wedding guests in western-style luxury. They held the reception in a solarium-turned ballroom at one of the top, five-star hotels in Tokyo. It was unreal for Makoto, standing amongst the lush, decadent flora that majestically adorned the entire room, to believe that she was in Tokyo and not in the realm where the spirits dwell. To say that the view of the sunset was otherworldly from the eightieth floor was putting it mildly.

Feeling out of place amongst Tokyo’s business elite, the ex-Phantom Thieves found their ways to each other during cocktail hour; Ryuji, Yusuke, and Futaba had strategically stationed themselves near the kitchen entrance. It was an overdue reunion; Makoto hadn’t seen some of her former teammates in years. Most of them were there, engaging in small-talk like every other guest as they waited for their remaining members to join. 

The murmur of waiters quietly sharing hors d’oeuvres and high heels clacking against the marble floor soon grew into a racket of laughter and chatter as more guests shuffled in, calling out to one another in loud voices to take selfies. Makoto politely excused herself to a dismayed Ann to help the wedding coordinator, who signaled her to assist in stowing away the mountain of presents and envelopes the guests had brought before the ceremony. _Fine, but you owe me a huge update_ , Ann had threatened with her breathtaking smile. 

Among the noisy crowd, Makoto heard the voices of her friends grow louder.

“Sumire-chan!”

“Hi, everyone! It is so good to see you all!” 

“Are those fresh oysters? Halt! Do not let them escape!” 

“Outta my way, Inari!” 

“Well, look who it is! Ren-Ren’s here!” 

Makoto flinched. Her breath caught at her throat.

“We’re all here, even Mako-chan!” she heard Haru sing out.

“Where’d she go?” Sumire asked. 

“Maybe she’s with Takeru,” she heard Hokuto say teasingly.

“I just saw her,” Ann said. “I’ll go get her.”

Suddenly the hanging chandeliers were too bright, and the room had grown hot with too many people. Makoto silently cursed at herself for agreeing to wear such a form-fitting dress despite the compliments that boosted her self-esteem (except the one from Futaba, where she unashamedly leaned side to side to behold her backside in awe). She stuffed the remaining pristine envelopes in the gift box, afraid she’d stained them with her sweaty fingertips. 

In a rush of—whatever she was feeling—she made a beeline to the immediate place in her line of vision that was as far away as possible from her friends: the bar. The top-shelf, view of metropolitan Tokyo, open bar.

***

Perhaps she was making a mistake, not living in accordance with her values, or how others viewed her. 

Because the way she was acting right now was not congruent with the image she projected when she walked down that aisle carrying Haru’s wedding dress train: the poised and dignified Maid of Honor, Niijima Makoto.

Instead, she was the single “bridesmaid but never a bride” woman slumped over at the open bar, the woman whose time to find a suitable husband, according to society, was running out. She was drunk, having lost count of how many glasses of whiskey, served neat, she consumed. 

Her head spun, and parts of her face felt numb, but she didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t care anymore. It felt nice. She felt lighter, even if all of this was a false, fleeting moment of relief away from boy problems and work stress. 

Besides, according to Haru and Ann, it was reasonable to feel this way, to want to feel wanted and long for someone. This was all part of the dating game, they assured her. 

So when Takahashi Takeru, the tall, ridiculously handsome Best Man, casually took a seat next to her and coolly asked for her permission to get her a drink, she surprisingly welcomed his presence. Instead of the usual anti-social, nonverbal cues she gave towards any man who gave her unwanted attention, she let him inch towards her. 

And before she knew it, she found herself lost in conversation with him, about what ideals inspired him to start his booming company (even if she didn’t quite agree with his ideologies, to which he seemed perfectly fine) to his experiences growing up as a half-British, half-Japanese person in Tokyo. There was an immediate intimacy in how they exchanged thoughts as she found herself laughing at his witty remarks. 

It felt oddly natural when he held out his hand and she placed hers in his as he led her to the dance floor; her heart fluttering from the novelty of a different, new touch. She embarrassingly wondered how he would be like in bed as she felt the pressure of his hand on the small of her back, swaying as he was with her to one of the slower songs. 

Makoto was sure their friends, from a distance, were whispering and squealing at the same time, tapping each other’s shoulders, gawking at her in shock, or quietly cheering that they won the bet as she dared to place her hands on Takeru’s firm chest and breath in his jasmine scent. This was so unlike her, let alone drinking this much. But maybe this is what she needed to do to not be a failure at love, she told herself.

She saw his gray-blue eyes widen as she boldly pulled his body closer.

“I’m sure you know they all placed bets on us,” he said with a playful smile. 

She let out a small laugh. “Not a fan of all the attention?” 

“Depends on who’s paying attention.”

Makoto gave a nervous giggle, a sorry attempt to hide the heat that rose in her face.

The smirk on his face suddenly fell into a neutral expression. She was no doubt drunk, but she could sense the shift in the air.

“You’re not trying to avoid anyone here, are you?” he suddenly asked. A black lock of his hair fell over his eyes as he leaned down closer.

Her back straightened despite herself. “Huh? What makes you think that?”

“I just get the feeling I’m making a lot of men jealous right now,” he said with a charming smile. 

“Oh,” she blurted.

Takeru cleared his throat. “Look, we all know how this night can possibly end. I’m here to have a good time, and...I want to spend that time with you.” 

The pounding in her head grew. Her mouth ran dry as she struggled to think of a response. 

Did he just smoothly imply that he wanted a one-night stand? With _her_? Well, Makoto reasoned, he _is_ a guy. A single, successful, gorgeous guy who was the type who dated models. 

But Makoto didn’t do one-night stands. She had never done this before, openly flirted with a stranger with the looming prospect of sleeping with him that same night. 

But she was also feeling particularly lonely, and it didn’t help being surrounded by loving couples and all the romance in the air.

She blamed her confusion on the whiskey.

“U-um, sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” said Takeru as he gently released her. 

She saw him take a long sip from his glass of merlot, feeling his eyes on her as she exited the room. 

***

Ren called out to Makoto twice before she finally heard him. Finally turned to look at him, after all these months of not making contact with one another; it had been about a year that he had last seen her in person. 

He found it odd that he hadn’t caught up with her individually by now. It’s true they’d grown apart after all these years; their group bond was never the same as in the heyday of their Phantom Thievery. Communication had dwindled down to solely birthday and holiday greetings on their ex-Phantom Thief group chat. Despite the lapses in time, he still considered the ex-Phantom Thieves his close friends, including Makoto.

He figured she’d be busy with Maid of Honor duties, but by the time the cake had been cut and the party had devolved into shot-pouring, and tasteless dancing to guilty-pleasure karaoke songs, every one of their friends mentioned they had already spoken with her. Even Sumire. 

Perhaps Makoto felt the same shyness _he_ felt all of a sudden, the embarrassment and anticipation that came with seeing someone you _used_ to be familiar with. The fear that someone once privy to your personal matters wouldn’t see you the same way anymore, or not approve of the way you’ve changed over the years. 

Or, maybe she was just so engrossed in this Best Man guy that Haru and Ann kept gushing over. She did look awfully comfortable with him.

He stared at Makoto. 

She stared right back, her stance relaxed and wavering. He had a couple of drinks himself, but it seems not as much as she did, for the few loose strands in her updo and her flushed skin gave _that_ away. Despite all that, she looked lovely as always in that gown she wore.

He reached a hand to his neck to adjust his bow tie. He wanted to ask how work was going for her, where she was living now in Tokyo, how she and Sae-san were doing, but all that came out was:

“Hey, you.” 

He gave a small wave before shoving his hands into his pockets. _Pathetic_.

“Oh! Hi, Ren!”

He cleared his throat at the sound of his name on her lips, his heart pounding from the alcohol. He briefly glanced around, but save for a few passersby here and there, it was just the two of them. Awkwardly reuniting in front of the bathrooms.

He coughed. “That was a very touching speech you gave,” he said.

“Oh, um, thank you!” she said with a small nod and hands clasped together. Prim and proper as always, perhaps a little too prim and proper for a drunk person. He was surprised at how subdued she seemed; in the past, after a couple of drinks in her, she’d grow loud and boisterous rivaling sober Ryuji’s level.

“Are you okay?” he croaked.

“Ye—” A hiccup escaped her mouth. She immediately covered her mouth, eyes wide, as if she had said something uncouth. 

An amused smile crept upon his face, but disappeared as the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come out. 

They stood in tense silence. Ren shifted the weight of his feet, inwardly cursing that his charm failed and abandoned him.

Makoto gave a small cough. “Um, sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. If you’ll excuse me.” 

She gave another polite nod, turning only to stumble forward a step. She had one hand cupped over her mouth, attempting (but failing) to stifle a burp while her other hand leaned on the wall for support.

Ren stepped forward, hands jumping to her waist to steady her hunched and weaving form. “Wait, Makoto—” 

She only shook her head in a flurry and hurried her pace, disappearing into the Ladies’ Room.

***

Of course, just as Makoto was about to applaud herself on a job well done avoiding Ren the entire night, he shows up. Calls after her, even. Looking as dashing and sensual as ever. And she’s about to throw up.

Had he sought her out? Why? Did that even matter?

And of course, she’d be that girl in the bathroom stall, finally giving in to the thoughts she promised herself she wouldn’t think. Her head spun as such thoughts befitting for an older single woman at her best friend’s wedding slammed into and all over her, and she was at battle with herself all over again. 

_Despite my best efforts, I’m still single. I’m going to wind up alone._

_Don’t cry, Makoto,_ her kinder self said. _You’ll ruin these false eyelashes._

Her stomach lurched.

***

Makoto didn’t cry. To her relief, her stomach felt less in agony. Some ten minutes later, she strode out of the bathroom with the newfound dignity of having a fresh layer of lipstick on, only to find herself meeting Ren’s eyes. 

He was waiting for her.

And a meter or so away, stood Takeru, adjusting his Rolex Submariner. 

He was also waiting for her.

This scene was straight from a shoujo manga, Makoto inwardly winced. Or from one of those visual novel games Futaba had gotten her into once. 

Makoto plastered on the most polite smile she could and stepped close to face them both. 

She gestured towards Ren. “Takeru, this is Amamiya Ren. We went to high school together with Haru. I assume you’ve already met.” 

“We have,” Takeru said in a casual tone. He acknowledged her high school friend with a nod. Ren shrugged. 

His gaze suddenly snapped to someone approaching from the bathroom behind her. 

“Hi, Ren. Oh! Hi, Makoto!” a high-pitched, soft voice said. It was Sumire.

Makoto felt her gut drop. 

Time stood still as the long-haired girl sashayed to Ren’s side, clad in a long wine-red gown that complemented his crisply tailored burgundy tuxedo. Beauty emanated from her doe-like eyes as she took the three of them in. 

As Sumire and Takeru exchanged pleasantries in the background, an uninvited, long-repressed thought reared its ugly presence in Makoto’s mind:

 _Ren and Sumire look absolutely, nauseatingly, perfect for one another_. 

Makoto suddenly felt very small. Ugly. 

Worthless.

She didn’t realize she was standing there gawking until she felt a hand gently take a hold of hers.

“Well, Amamiya-san, Yoshizawa-san, it was a pleasure. Excuse us,” Takeru politely bowed. 

Makoto, unexpectedly in her flustered state, managed to say some niceties of her own. 

She couldn’t look at him in the eye—look _them_ in the eye—without feeling like she was going to fall apart. 

All the raw emotions she had thought she got out of her system along with the liquor came back with full force. Her eyes and cheeks felt hot, and her ribs again threatened to squeeze the air out of her. 

How stupid it was of her to even consider that he was waiting for her. 

And what a monster of a hangover awaited her the next morning.

***

Not everyone made it to the optional post-wedding brunch the next morning on time; save for Ann, Yusuke, and of course, the bride and groom. Takeru had joined their table at Haru and Hokuto’s insistence, taking his seat next to Hokuto and two seats away from Makoto.

“Ah, you’re here. You look well,” Yusuke said, working on what looked like his second plate. 

“Yes, as does yourself,” Makoto said with a sheepish smile, brushing a barely-dried lock of hair behind her ear. (Try as she might to deny it, her body did not handle hangovers as it did in her early twenties. She simply didn’t _have_ hangovers in her early twenties). 

“Glad you made it,” Hokuto said with a greeting. Makoto thanked a server who politely pulled a chair out. She took her seat next to Haru and across from Ann, who simply beamed at her.

Their table was rather quiet for a next-morning meal, save for the background noises of silverware clinking against plates and wait staff pouring water into their glasses. Ann and Haru were oddly _not_ talking, occasionally giving her placating smiles. Meanwhile, Takeru shared details on how Hokuto got surprise-attacked by a monkey during their bachelor party trip to Bali. She could feel his gaze on her once in a while when the conversation lulled. 

Something was off. Was she overdressed? Or underdressed? The invite said smart casual. Or, was there something she didn’t know but should know? Or worse, considering how severe her headache was, was there something she did last night that she didn’t know she did? That can’t be. She lost count of how many drinks she had, but she didn’t blackout. She remembered everything, mostly.

By the time she made it back to the table with a full plate in hand, Makoto had noticed the rest of the stragglers had shuffled in. Sumire and Ann were admiring Haru’s four-carat emerald-cut engagement ring and its matching wedding band. Next to Ann sat Ren and Futaba, who ate her plate quietly, shooting annoyed glances now and then to Yusuke. 

“You look like you slept well,” Yusuke observed, oblivious to the cold vibes shot his way. 

“I did,” Ren said calmly.

Ryuji groaned, holding his head in his hands. “It’s not fair. You were at the afterparty for as long as I was. How are you not hungover?”

“Maybe because he actually stopped drinking when his dear friends told him to.” Ann chided. Ryuji merely gave a whiny shrug.

“What about you, Makoto? I didn’t see you at the afterparty,” Sumire asked.

“Yes, what’d you end up doing, Mako-chan?” Haru asked innocently, bringing her rose tea to her lips. Makoto caught the suggestive lift of her brow. 

She felt everyone’s eyes turn to her. 

Makoto schooled her features but cursed her face for growing hot.

“I—” 

“Or more like, _who’d_ you end up doing?” Ryuji playfully elbowed Makoto, only for Ann to smack him behind his head. Haru’s lips pressed together in disapproval at Hokuto, who was struggling to contain his laughter. Takeru looked away. 

These people were not her friends, but rather vultures waiting for the kill, which in this case was a juicy piece of gossip at her expense. An easy kill for them, because they knew her lackluster love life was the one thing in their arsenal that could instantly embarrass their frequently uptight friend. She considered this her penance for her foolish behavior last night. 

“Gross, TMI!” Futaba’s face twisted in disgust. “ _She_ was helping _me_ drag a passed-out Inari back to his room since the rest of you were useless,” Futaba said, pointing an accusing finger. 

“Inari is his nickname,” Haru explained out of earshot to a puzzled Hokuto and Takeru.

Ann and Ryuji moved to open their mouths but closed it upon realizing that yes, at that moment when Futaba was shouting at them for something, they were engaged in a heated semi-final battle of a _pin_ - _pon_ - _pan_ tournament with some fired-up middle management folks. Yusuke had been the first casualty.

“We’re sorry Futaba-chan. Hey, you did great! He’s much better now!” Ann said through a forced smile, arms outstretched to present a recovered Yusuke. 

“You have my gratitude,” Yusuke bowed his head to both Futaba and Makoto, a hand over his heart.

As the conversation defaulted to making fun of Ryuji, with Futaba threatening to upload various incriminating videos, Makoto shot a furtive glance at Ren. It was the first time they made eye contact during the entire brunch. His lips were upturned into a subtle smile, and the twinkle in his eyes told her they shared the same thought.

 _Safe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Makoto works hard, she deserves at least one night to be a drunken mess. Anyhow, thank you for reading. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the kind readers who left kudos, bookmarked, let alone viewed this! Thank you for your time, your kindness warms my old soul. :)

“You totally hooked up with him at the wedding.”

“I did not,” Makoto stated, albeit rather irritably, not bothering to look up from the menu she was studying.

Eiko crossed her arms. “Ugh, are you serious? You spend a night with Hot Half-British Best Man, and you’re telling me _nothing_ happened?

Makoto sighed. She was grateful Eiko still made time for their friendship throughout all these years and changes, from going to different colleges, to (after many breakups) Eiko finding a husband and having a child. However, her thirst for juicy gossip, especially when it came to Makoto’s joke of a love life, never failed to grate on Makoto’s nerves. 

(Why Makoto indulged her was another matter.)

Eiko would not break eye contact.

“Ok fine, I did,” Makoto relented, looking away.

“I knew it!” Eiko said, both hands balled into victorious fists.

“But it wasn’t with the Best Man,” she said in a small voice.

 _Not with the Best Man_ , Eiko mouthed—then went still with widened eyes. A sinister grin gradually twisted her face as she slid her chair closer. 

“Then who? Who?!” she demanded, leaning forward with both elbows on the table. Makoto scooted further back in her seat, with a death grip on the menu. 

“It was with Ren,” she mumbled.

“Your hot fake boyfriend from high school? _Oh ho ho,_ this is even better.” Her eyes glowed with sheer thrill. 

Makoto rubbed her brow as if warding off a headache and the embarrassment of what she just shared. “Yes. But the truth is, I’m really confused,” she admitted. 

Eiko rapidly nodded. “Go on.”

Makoto steadied herself. “Well, this actually is the second time we’ve...sort of slept together,” she said shakily.

Eiko slammed her palms on the table. “ _What_? And you didn’t tell me about the _first_?”

Makoto leaned in, eyes widening in alarm. “Keep it down!” Then, after glancing around to make sure that no one was looking, she continued. “They were just one-night stands. Well, one and a half. Nothing special.”

"One and a—" she started incredulously. “You _know_ I am not letting you leave my sight until you define what and when this ‘half’ was!”

Makoto gave her a pointed look. 

Eiko gave her a sharp look back.

Makoto shrugged. “Ugh, fine. It was a year ago, right after he broke up with his girlfriend.”

“Sumire?”

Makoto nodded.

Eiko gasped in realization. “I remember you told me they broke up...but that they got back together after only a week.” 

Makoto looked away. “It was during that week.”

A pause. 

Eiko remained deathly silent. 

Makoto blinked back. 

Then: “Oh, come on! Really?!” 

Eiko nodded with a deadpan stare. “Really.”

Makoto let out a groan, burying her hot face in her hands. An onlooker could easily confuse Makoto’s stance as her crying because Eiko had just told her she didn’t want to be friends anymore.

There was another long pause before Makoto spoke, her voice muffled. “We just made out. And did other...stuff. But not the actual thing.”

Makoto dared to peek through her fingers only to meet her friend’s narrowed eyes. 

“No more, Eiko!”

Eiko rolled her eyes. “ _Fine_. But you’re still not off the hook. What happened at the wedding?”

“Well, I assumed they were still together, but it turns out they weren’t. I sort of...pounced on him once he said that.” She winced on that last part. 

There was a screeching sound of a chair sliding back and Makoto cringed at the sight of her friend standing with both arms in the air like she was praising the heavens. “THAT'S MY GIRL!” she shrieked. Disapproving looks swept throughout the cafe. Eiko cleared her throat and gave a sheepish bow to their unwanted audience. 

Makoto shook her head. “I wasn’t myself that night.”

She truly wasn’t. She promised herself that she would not engage in one-night stands, mainly because she wanted to only sleep with someone with whom she was serious. She didn’t have time to bench...or to be benched.

Eiko shook her head in wonder. “You are such a badass. I love you.” 

Makoto looked down with a pained expression, slumping over her untouched iced coffee. “Anyway, I’m confused because...I know he’s not serious about me, but those times we were together, it felt so real, like he was serious.” 

Eiko brought a hand to her chin, pondering her words. 

Makoto shook her head in dismay. “I'm just falling too fast again. I mean, this is Ren we’re talking about. I’m sure he treats all the girls he sleeps with this way. I could just be getting overly attached so soon and reading this all wrong...again.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. Maybe he really is serious about you this time.”

Something about the words _this time_ stung. “I don’t think so. He’s an honest person...he would’ve said something. And he probably still has feelings for Sumire. They were together for so long.”

“How do you know? What if he’s over her and is now _under_ you.”

“I don’t know.” She gulped. “I can barely keep a guy for a year,” she muttered.

Eiko frowned, annoyed that Makoto didn’t pick up on her clever innuendo. She opted to leave out the part that her friend’s past choices in men weren’t the most sensible, hence why they didn’t last long. But who was she to judge when she had her fair share of mistakes? A much bigger share than Makoto's, that was sure. She decided on a different angle.

“Knowing you, I know you had a Defining The Relationship talk right after you slept with him. What exactly did you tell him when you guys last talked about this?”

Well, the time they had ‘the talk’ was the first _and_ the last, after their half-night stand. Makoto ignored Eiko’s light jab at her serious nature in the dating game. 

Makoto let out a breath. “I said I didn’t want to lose him as a friend, so we agreed we would stay friends. We acted rashly; he just broke up with Sumire, and I stupidly put myself in that situation to be his rebound.” 

(She left the part out that they ended that conversation admitting to each other they had fun, as that was _no one’s_ business).

Eiko’s brows furrowed.

“What?” Makoto asked.

“Did you hear what you just said?”

Makoto tilted her head.

“Let me guess. You went first, saying you didn’t want to lose him as a friend, and he just went along respecting your wishes.”

“Well, yes, because I didn’t want our friendship—wait, why is it a bad thing he ‘respected my wishes’?”

Eiko ignored her retort, rerouting their conversation. “You friendzonedhim, but he slept with you. Again.”

“I’m not following.”

Eiko gave an exasperated sigh at the blank look on her friend’s face. _This girl is so smart yet can be so clueless_. “He’s totally into you but thinks you’re not. He’s not going to say no to you when you drop your panties down again for him.”

Makoto recoiled at Eiko’s rather vulgar choice of words. Moreover, that didn’t sound right. Was Ren into her? Maybe he was attracted to her, hence the sex, but he wasn’t serious about her. If anything, he too was just feeling lonely, and she happened to be available, just like the first time. Also, she didn't friendzone him, it was mutual. He ended up getting back together with Sumire anyway, a mere week after their half-night stand. Considering her stellar track record in love, she figured they’d probably get back together again...

“You’re overthinking.”

“I am not,” Makoto huffed. 

Eiko frowned. “Why won’t you just accept that he could very well be into you? And you know, not just _in_ you.”

Makoto bit the inside of her cheek while fiddling with the straw of her drink. She ignored yet again another dirty Eiko joke.

“I don’t know...it just doesn’t sound plausible.”

“He’s obviously showing you with his hot body.”

“Eiko!”

“You know it’s true! Now go tell him you want to be more than friends before he gets discouraged.”

The problem was, Makoto didn’t know if she wanted to be more than friends with Ren; rather, she didn’t know if they _could_ be more than friends. Even if he wanted to date her exclusively, if things didn’t work out, she’d have her heart broken again, and would most likely lose his friendship. Makoto didn’t know if she could deal with that hurt again. What a mess she had dug themselves into—

“You’re overthinking _again_. Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve still got it. So you’ve had your heart broken several times, big deal. You’re still here, and you’re still a freakin’ catch. This storm of dead-end dating isn’t going to last forever,” Eiko offered, pulling Makoto out of her spinning thoughts.

Makoto now knew why she had often indulged Eiko. It was nice she could be candid with someone outside of her and Ren’s shared circle of friends. It was an outsider’s perspective, someone neutral (well, somewhat neutral), and she could let her guard down a little more. Even though she often chided her, it came from a good place. 

In her Eiko-like way, she reminded Makoto to be kind to herself and to trust herself, unlike the society that held the expectation exclusively for women in their late twenties that they be in a committed relationship en route to marriage.

Makoto exhaled. “You’re right. Thank you, Eiko. I really needed to hear that.” 

“You’re getting soft on me, Niijima,” she scoffed, offering a smug look as she slurped on her iced latte. “Besides, I’m just returning the favor. After all, you’re the one who got me through so many breakups.”

Makoto couldn’t help the satisfied smile that crept up her face.

A phone vibrated on the table. It was Eiko’s.

“Oh, I have to go. Can’t leave Motoki with the baby too long, or there’ll be two newborns to take care of.”

Makoto giggled. “Tell her Auntie says hi.”

Eiko gave a small wink. “I will, and I’ll tell her that Auntie Makoto will be coming by one of these days to babysit."

Makoto laughed. “It’s a date, then.”

***

 _I wonder if I’ll have a baby one day too_ , Makoto thought amusedly, walking to the station. She didn’t want to think about how she wasn’t herself that night at the wedding, how having one-night stands like her friends suggested (though they meant well) didn’t feel right, how flirting wasn’t her thing. She didn’t want to tell Eiko, or anyone for that matter, that she didn’t know what to do when it came to ‘dating.’ Despite following all the rules, she was the only one who didn’t get results, leaving her worrying about where she messed up. 

Thankfully the train was empty enough for her to find a seat. Scrolling aimlessly through her social media feed, she paused to double-tap on the ‘She Said Yes!’ and ultrasound posts that seemed to be occurring every week. She wondered if making such posts was in her future too. 

She caught her reflection on the window as the train shimmied at high speed.

She was twenty-eight years old, two years away from thirty. She looked good enough to find someone, she reasoned. She'd gotten better at makeup thanks to Ann. She checked out her new hairstyle, still short, but long past her chin. No longer a blunt fringe, her bangs were soft and wispy, calling attention to her eyes and delicate cheekbones. Her long, jewel-blue coat gave her a ‘minimalist chic’ vibe, Haru had complimented. 

Yet despite all her ‘upgrades’ in her appearance, she was still single. Still a failure at love and relationships, always looking for love and approval from the wrong people. 

The doors slid open at her stop. She held onto her purse as several rowdy teenagers rushed by her to get on. 

By the time she stepped onto the platform, the train picked up speed, a whoosh of thick air brushing past her in its wake. 

She almost wished she had a boyfriend by now so she didn’t have to face the uncertainties of dating—to face the fear that despite her best efforts, she might very well end up alone.

***

Makoto dreaded graveyard shifts. 

One, she couldn’t get herself to sleep while there was light out, despite the top-rated heated sleeping mask and blackout curtains she thoroughly researched before purchasing. 

Two, no matter how many shots of espresso in her cafe latte (six was the record), her body could never have the same surge of energy that powered her through those fourteen-hour shifts in the daytime. 

Three, due to the sleep deprivation, she would be angry—no, _enraged—_ at the slightest provocation. It came out in the interrogation room with perpetrators who deserved her ire, but she feared the day it would cloud her vision out in the field. 

But such was the drudgery of becoming one of the youngest—and first few women—to be bestowed the role of an Inspector of Shinjuku Station. Given specific structural changes (aka budget cuts) out of her control, there were several nights in which they were understaffed, and it was her responsibility to fill in for the lack of personnel and administrative oversight.

Besides, she was also reasonably new in her role and needed to know how to navigate emergencies with limited resources after hours. 

As she was about to throw her comforter over her head in frustration, her phone began buzzing in a series of text message alerts. 

> Haru: You owe us a big explanation.
> 
> Ann: Big time. 
> 
> Ann: We know you’re dragging this out!
> 
> Makoto: Haru, aren’t you supposed to be ziplining right now?
> 
> Haru: Yes, but you still owe us.
> 
> Ann: Omg, why haven’t you sent us pictures of Maui yet.
> 
> Haru: I will! But we’ve been busy, you know. ;)
> 
> Ann: TMI. 
> 
> Makoto: That is NOT fair. How is that TMI for Haru but not for me.
> 
> Haru: So you’re not denying it.
> 
> Haru: You know we just can’t wait for you to get married.
> 
> Ann: We just can’t wait to see you happy with your beautiful quarter-British kids.
> 
> Makoto: I have work tonight. Good night.
> 
> Ann: Fine. But we’re on to you.
> 
> Haru: *angry face emoji*

Makoto sighed and threw an arm over her eyes, dropping her phone next to her Buchimaru alarm clock. It felt like a dense fog weighed down on her mind, but at the same time, her brain couldn’t stop firing thoughts. Her body felt heavy, sinking in the sheets, but her heart continued to race. 

She rolled over face-down on the bed and let out a long groan. She sounded like a complaining four-year-old.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Three more hours until she had to report in. Three more hours of trying to force herself to fall asleep. 

She was getting too old for this.

Her phone buzzed again, this time in the rhythm of an incoming phone call. The only situation she would receive a call before a night shift is if the Chief Inspector needed her to report early. Great.

Still lying prone, she picked up her phone secretly wishing the Chief was calling to tell her she did not have to come in. Like that would ever happen.

“This is Niijima.”

“Hi, Niijima,” Ren calmly greeted.

Makoto nearly dropped her phone in the flurry of ungracefully rolling herself to sit up. 

Suddenly a memory of the last time she heard his gentle voice, last weekend, when he was under her, flashed through her mind— _No_ , she scolded herself. Curse her sleep-deprived brain.

“Ren! Um, hi!”

“Are you busy? Sorry for bothering you at work.”

“Oh, I’m actually not working right now. I’m working graveyard shift.”

“Should I call later? I’m interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s okay,” she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“Oh, it’s okay. So what’s up?” She brought a palm to her forehead for how high-pitched her voice sounded.

If Ren was bothered by it, she couldn’t tell. “I uh, wanted to ask you for a huge favor. It’d be weird to ask over text. You’re in no way obligated to say yes. I just wanted to see if you’re open to the idea.”

Makoto shoved down the pinch of disappointment in her chest. This is a business call. No matter; Makoto knew how to handle business. 

“I’m actually starting a new job for the Diet Affairs Committee chief,” he began. “It’s in Hirakawacho. Wondering if you could house this stray cat for a week or two until he finds a new home. I’ll definitely pay you back my share for the rent once when I get my check.”

She leaned forward, tightening her grip on her phone. “Wow, Ren, that’s incredible! That is so good to hear!” 

“Thanks,” he chuckled.

An awkward pause hung in the air as Makoto mulled over her response.

“Um, I don’t mean to sound rude, but why my place specifically?” 

“No offense taken. Well, for starters, my commute wouldn’t be as painful. I also wouldn’t mind having some of your delicious cooking.” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t deny the flutter in her heart at his honeyed words. He cleared his throat. “And I figured we could...hash some things out.”

She tensed. “Hash some things out?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About, you know.” His tone sounded uncertain. _Odd_ , Makoto thought. He was usually composed and unruffled, seldom unsure of himself. 

“We kind of left things hanging, you know, after the wedding,” he finished.

The line went silent.

 _Oh_. 

“Oh! Uh, yes, I believe so.” An uninvited shudder of pleasure ran through her at the implication of that night. She pressed her knees together.

“Yeah. You don’t have to give an answer right away. Sorry to spring this on you.”

Makoto was not one who threw caution to the wind. Her middle name was caution. Caution is what landed her at her current position.

“Actually, it shouldn’t be a problem,” she blurted before her mind could catch up to _what she just did_. "I’ll gladly give the stray cat a temporary home,” she teased.

“Really?” She could hear his smile through the line. A light feeling fluttered through her chest at the thought of it.

“You have no idea how indebted I am to you, Mako—” He stopped himself. “Makoto,” he hurriedly amended. 

Makoto stifled a gasp. He’d only called her that when—

 _Stop it_ , she bit down. 

Worried he just heard her thoughts, Makoto stammered. “Um, w-when will you be here? So that I can ready the place.”

She heard his smile once again. “Heh. Knowing you, I doubt you need to do any readying. But I’ll be arriving in two days. Is that okay?”

“Yeah! That’s enough time.”

“Wonderful. Wow, thank you so much again. Dinner is on me.”

“For all two weeks? Sure. Along with your down payment.”

“Er-I would if I could,” Ren said in a dubious voice.

Makoto giggled, mentally keeping score of the few times she unbalanced him. “I’m kidding. I also could use an avid taster for some new dishes I’m working on.”

“I can’t wait. Anyway, I should let you go now. You’ve done more than enough to help me. I’ll text you when I leave. Get some rest.”

They ended the call on pleasant terms. 

Makoto sat still, finally releasing a breath she was holding for what felt like the entire conversation. 

_What. What just happened_. _What did you just do, woman?!_ her inner critic cried.

She threw herself back on her bed, curling into herself. “Argh!” she screamed into her Buchi-kun body pillow. 

She was going to have yet another night shift running on zero hours of sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers: thank you for giving this story a chance. The kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscriptions you gave mean a lot to me. :)

Makoto decided to call it quits after dabbing a third layer of under-eye concealer to no avail. It was hopeless; only a good night’s sleep would take care of the dark circles under her eyes. 

Why she was spending so much time on her makeup more than usual, or why it took her _two hours_ to select her outfit—a black long-sleeve silk blouse tucked into a pair of hip-hugging navy blue trousers—was another matter.

It was an overcast Sunday afternoon, with fresh spring winds easing through the quiet neighborhood. In ten minutes, Ren and Morgana would be arriving (Ren sent her a follow-up text after their phone call that he meant to say _two_ stray cats. Makoto laughed, knowing they were a packaged deal). 

She scrambled to the kitchen stove, lowering the heat on the steaming _nabe_ she made. It was the only main dish she could throw together in the past thirty-five minutes along with some miso-glazed eggplant. She felt lighter seeing all the items on her list of chores crossed off: from _stow away piles of laundry_ to _fluff their pillows one last time_.

The doorbell rang, and she took one last glance at herself in the full-length mirror by the door to run a hand through her hair and make sure she tucked in her blouse the way she did five minutes ago. 

The first thing she noticed when she opened the door was Ren’s outfit: a well-fitting navy blue lapel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black denim pants, and an understated but polished leather wristwatch. All of this, combined with his relaxed posture and subtle cologne, presented an effortless, handsome look. She fought the heat creeping up her cheeks.

He, in turn, gave her a once-over look and seemed to be thinking the same thing about their unintentionally matching clothes, because they both laughed at the same time. 

“Nice outfit,” she smiled.

“Likewise,” he said with a smirk. His voice was low and gentle. “You look nice.” 

She shifted her weight, clasping a sweaty palm over her wrist. “T-this? I-I just threw this on. But thank you.” 

In a fluid motion, he presented to her with both hands a small bouquet of white gardenias. “Here. This is for you. Just a little token of appreciation for taking these two stray cats in.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Morgana muttered offhandedly. Ren shot him a look as they both gave her a small bow.

Makoto gave a small chuckle. “You guys, no need to be so formal. Really, it’s not a problem at all.” She placed the bouquet with care on the table and gestured for both of them to enter. 

Ren stepped in and briefly paused in front of her, arms at his side, with a hopeful look. He looked like he was going to say something, but didn’t. She felt her ribs tighten slightly, unsure of what to do. An awkward beat passed as they simply looked at each other. 

The two didn’t notice Morgana giving them side glances in their hesitant exchange. “Ahem,” he said. “By the way, I claim the bed!” He darted forward onto the laid-out sofa bed. “Mmm, this is the life,” he purred, rolling and scratching his head on the freshly laundered comforter.

Ren brought a hand to the back of his neck. “I think he means, ‘thank you.’”

“I know,” Makoto giggled, closing the door. 

***

After a brief tour of her clean yet cozy apartment (leaving Ren wondering how she made time for chores despite barely being at home due to her long hours), they settled comfortably at the dining table, sated from the filling meal. Ren noticed a notepad on Makoto’s placemat with a list of numbered items in her neat handwriting. He smirked to himself at how some things never changed about her: her conscientiousness and knack for organization. 

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“Oh! Yes, it is. I wanted to share some house rules, if that’s okay—”

“—So there aren’t any unsaid expectations,” he stated. 

A small laugh bubbled out of her. “Yes,” she nodded. 

He felt a tiny chest-swelling sensation at the sound of her laugh. She knew it was a familiar exchange between them from their Phantom Thief planning days. They even had the same seating arrangements, Ren thought amusedly, with them sitting next to each other hunched over their documents in thought, and Morgana perched readily on the table. 

She picked up a pen. “Then let’s get to it. About rent, you honestly don’t need to cover anything.”

“I insist.” 

“Yeah, he insists,” Morgana replied, wagging his tail.

Makoto shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely, yes.”

She crossed her arms, looking at him with pursed lips.

“I have savings, Makoto.”

“That you should save,” she countered. “You can’t talk me out of this.”

“Is that a challenge?” he said playfully.

Her forehead wrinkled. “Have you always been this difficult?”

“Only when I talk to you,” he said, lifting his brows.

Makoto brought a palm to her forehead. 

After five more minutes of debating and sensing Morgana was about to claw him, they settled that his repayment would be her calling in a favor from him the next time she needed anything. They also moved on to other items down her list, with Ren finding out that they both liked to take their showers at night, and that they also had a thing about people sitting or lying down on the bed in outside clothes. 

“Well, now that we covered all the general housekeeping stuff, we should talk about...um...” Makoto said, bringing her hands onto her lap.

There was a shift in her demeanor; he noticed her confident, managerial tone changed into a fidgety, awkward one. She slightly dropped her head to her chest, with her widened eyes hiding under her wispy fringe. Ren resisted parting her bangs.

“I’m...going to head out for a walk,” Morgana slowly backed away, exiting through the balcony sliding door. Ren’s shoulders relaxed, his eyes trailing to the overcast sky. _Thank god_.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. He ran a hand through his hair, unsure if he should go first. This was his idea, after all. 

“What I want to discuss—”

“I thought we should talk about—”

Ren gave a small smile. “You first,” he said.

She nodded. “What I want to discuss is...visitors. I don’t feel comfortable if you bring other women here, especially for, um, overnight stays.” 

He looked at her incredulously. After Haru’s wedding, he uninstalled all the dating apps he’d entertained after his breakup with Sumire, but she didn’t need to know that.

“I completely understand. I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway. It’s completely rude and disrespectful,” he said.

Her gaze snapped up to him. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were—”

“—No worries,” he shook his head. “I didn’t think you were. Plus, I’m not really into that anymore,” he trailed off. 

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Then if that’s the case...”

A light, giddy feeling sprouted in him as he turned over in his mind what she could possibly reply to his implication that he wasn’t seeing anyone.

She leaned forward, tucking her hands between her knees. “Uh, so what I wanted to say was that...I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Ren froze.

_What?_

“What?” he asked.

“I’m sorry for how I acted at the wedding. I was completely insensitive and selfish. Can we...just put that behind us and stay good friends?”

Ren felt a knot twist in his gut. This sounded familiar, as if they weren’t seated at her dining table in her apartment having this conversation; but rather at _his_ apartment, in his bed, with her nestled in his arms as her smooth body wrapped around his. He felt his insides cave in at the memory. 

He breathed, trying to steady himself. The words spilled out of him. “You don’t have to apologize. I guess, I’m at fault too.” 

Makoto looked up at him. He controlled his features, masking the pinch in his chest with a neutral expression.

Her shoulders relaxed as she tucked a hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Ren, for understanding,” she said softly. Her smile was so warm and genuine.

“Of course,” he said. The words felt thick on his tongue. 

“Was there...anything else we should discuss?”

 _Yes_. “No,” he said unflappably. “I think we’re on the same page.”

Makoto beamed. “I’m glad we had this talk,” she said, and the stilted air around them lifted. 

As she stood up clearing the table, a dizzy, disorienting feeling clouded his mind. A slew of thoughts swirled around him, yet he couldn’t get a grasp on any of them. 

He didn’t know why he didn’t say what he wanted to say. 

Maybe it was the sheer contentment and peace in her voice that stalled his words, or the color in her cheeks when she smiled after he gave her his answer. 

Maybe he didn’t want to feel what he felt after the first time he heard this. 

Maybe he didn’t want to face the truth that he deserved this.

Ren closed his eyes and breathed. He readjusted himself. 

He walked steadily into the kitchen with the rest of the tableware. He moved to her side at the sink to place the dishes onto the pile she was washing. 

“For the record though,” he blurted as he leaned in. “I had fun.” His arm brushed her shoulder by a hair. “Did you?” He turned his head over his shoulder. Her forehead was inches from his mouth. 

Makoto turned red in an instant, the plate she was holding clattering onto the sink. He couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped his throat as he moved past her to dry the dishes.

Then, she gave a small nod. 

He almost dropped the dish towel. It was his turn to be knocked off-balance.

***

When she was a student, starting from high school, Makoto had ample energy adhering to a strict regimen of studying, keeping up with her extracurricular responsibilities, exercising regularly, then more studying. 

The workforce was a different matter, and drained her differently than years of schooling had. She’d still wake up early enough to get ready to make it to work on time, but she found herself pressing the snooze button more often. 

_Five more minutes_ , she groaned to herself under the covers. As if on cue, an aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through her room despite her closed door. The sound of her refrigerator door opening and closing and the clink of tableware being removed from cabinets jolted her awake. 

_He’s awake? In the kitchen? Before me? What kind of host am I?_

Her eyes darted to the clock, the red numbers on Buchi’s belly displaying that she had only twenty minutes before she had to be out the door. Quickly wiping her eyes and combing her hair, she walked into the dining room only to be met with a modest, yet welcoming display of a breakfast meal for two. She felt a slight ache in her chest at the sight. 

It looked a little like when she’d make breakfast for Sis and Dad. 

“Morning,” Ren said with a small smile, setting their coffees onto the table. He brushed his hands on her red apron, turning to face her. Already dressed for his first day, he appeared fresh with his fluffy locks handsomely tousled to the side away from his eyes. He gave a little start when he saw her standing there.

She must have had some kind of repelling look on her face because he looked at her with a slight frown.

“Is everything ok?”

She shook her head, feeling a slight heat creep up her neck and cheeks. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she smiled. “Sorry. I was just thinking it’s been a while since someone last cooked breakfast for me.” 

“I only aim to please,” he said with a cheeky grin, motioning for her to sit. She gave a small laugh at that.

She took her seat across from his as he hung her apron back in the kitchen. “It’s not much, but I figured it’d be just enough to squeeze in,” he said.

“It’s perfect.” She took a bite of her _tamago kake gohan_ ; it tasted flavorful, and not just because he made it for her. “Where did Morgana go?”

“He went out for a morning walk.”

“He missed out.” 

Ren smiled at the compliment, drinking his bowl of miso soup. 

It was funny how life worked; when they first met, they were enemies. Now, they were friends of eleven years. It felt like a long time, but at the same time, it didn’t. That made sense: if she had to account for how many years they’d sought each other out on at least a weekly basis and could say without a doubt they were “close friends” as they had been in her last year of high school, it would amount to only three whole years. 

The rest of the years, like what often happened in many long-standing friendships, were spent in mutual disconnect. Shared interests and the effort put in dwindled, but the decrease in intensity didn’t mean that the bond was null. They were two different people in different stages of their lives, and she respected that. 

They’d randomly reconnected in the setting of, expectedly, Ren studying for his graduate school entrance exams in his gap year at the age of twenty-two. They maintained ties during the year after but eventually drifted apart again. 

It wasn’t until he was twenty-six, and she was twenty-seven that something not-academic drew them back to each other. 

Now he was here, in front of her, living in her apartment, sharing the details of his new job. There was something familiar and natural about spending her first moments of the day with him. A pleasant air hung about them, and a comfortable warmth bloomed in her chest; it was most likely the coffee. 

“I’m going to head out now,” he said, moving to bring his bowls to the sink. “I’ll do the dishes when I get back tonight.”

Makoto pushed back her chair, standing up to take the bowls out of his hand. “No, let me,” she insisted. He acquiesced, giving her a wry smile.

As he made his way to the door, briefcase in hand, Makoto couldn’t help but think how handsome he looked in his business suit. He was sure to draw attention at the political party’s headquarters.

Meanwhile, she was still looking frumpy in her pajamas.

 _Stop it, Makoto, this is your friend_ , her inner critic cringed.

The sound of the doorknob turning pulled her out of her dangerous thoughts. “Wait! You’re forgetting something.”

She dashed to the fridge to present to him a neatly tied-up bento. The way his eyes lit up told her she did _something_ right this morning. “For you,” she said.

He released a small chuckle and shook his head. “Mako, I can’t take this.” 

“I made it for you,” she said, stepping closer, ignoring what he just called her. “Please, take it.”

He tilted his head. “And what if I don’t?” He grinned playfully at her.

“You’re not in a position to negotiate,” she said with a pout. “Just take it.” She pushed the box onto his chest.

He simply glanced down at the bento and up at her, amused. “You’re quite pushy.” 

_I’ll show you pushy_ , she huffed. She grabbed his wrist, slipping her fingers over his to force the bento into his grasp. His hand felt warm and tingly against hers. She abruptly pulled away, realizing her fingers lingered on his skin for a second longer than they needed to be. 

“Um, I shouldn’t keep you,” she babbled, clasping her hands as if to restrain them. 

He nodded. “I’ll let you get going too.”

“Have a great first day.”

“Have a great day too.”

Ren was about to turn to leave when suddenly, without thinking, Makoto took a step forward and planted a friendly peck on his cheek.

“Thank you for making me breakfast, Ren,” she found herself saying in a tenderhearted tone.

Ren stood there, dumbfounded. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased or uncomfortable. Probably the latter. 

She recoiled as her hand whipped up to cover her mouth. Her eyes bulged in horror at what she just did. 

“Don’twantyoutobelatebye!” she squeaked, pushing him out. She shut the door and retreated, not daring to see what his reaction would be.

As she stumbled away from the door, she heard Morgana’s voice outside. It sounded like he was grimacing. “What the hell happened to you?” 

Makoto couldn’t bear to listen and fled to her room.

***

Life was a funny thing, Ren thought. Years ago, he was a naive, passionate high schooler who had the power to enact instant change. 

Now he was twenty-seven. He would always seek justice, but there was also the reality: that social change was slow, and might not even happen in this lifetime. 

There was also the irony that he now worked for the very system that once failed him. Still, he believed in the virtue of his occupation, pushing for just and fair policies that didn’t just favor the ones who held power.

Then, there was the sobering reality that he needed to pay off his student loans, let alone find his own shelter.

He looked forward to having a steady stream of income and found himself taking part in the workforce ritual of happy hour. The bar he was at had cheap drinks, and, Ren noticed, was full of already inebriated patrons complaining about their bosses and spouses.

> Ren: Hey, Ryuji’s randomly in town this evening. You’re welcome to join, we’re having yakitori.
> 
> Makoto: I can’t...I’m sorry you guys.
> 
> Makoto: I’m kind of in a predicament...
> 
> Ren: Need help?
> 
> Makoto: Yes, but no. Not sure how you can help.
> 
> Makoto: My coworker asked me last minute to fill in for her on this blind group date.
> 
> Makoto: It’s so silly, I know, but she’s like a mentee to me, and I caved in.
> 
> Makoto: Tell Ryuji I say hi. 
> 
> Ren: I will.
> 
> Ren: Have fun.
> 
> _Read at 19:15_

“Dude, did you get ghosted or something? You keep looking at your phone," he heard Ryuji say.

Ren considered whether to entertain him or not. 

“Not really.”

“Caspered at least?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s rough, man,” Ryuji said. “Look, whoever this girl is, I’m sure you guys can talk it out. Stop being all mopey. It’s time to celebrate! My bro’s back in Tokyo!” he cheered, thumping his beer on the counter. He poured another shot of whiskey into both his and Ren’s drinks. 

Ryuji raised his beer mug to Ren. “To my brother being back in Tokyo with a stable job.” 

Ren toasted to that and took a long sip of his whiskey highball. Ryuji stared in awe as he finished the entire glass in one fell swoop.

“My man!” Ryuji shouted, handing Ren another drink.

***

After waiting an hour, Ren decided to swallow his pride and text Makoto.

> Ren: Hey. I’m kind of in a predicament too.
> 
> Makoto: Oh no.
> 
> Ren: You were right. I did forget something. My key, of all things.
> 
> Makoto: What? Did you just get home?
> 
> Ren: Not really.
> 
> Makoto: And why didn’t you tell me sooner?
> 
> Ren: Didn’t want to interrupt...your date.
> 
> Makoto: Well, you wouldn’t have. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. 
> 
> Ren: See you soon.

***

Makoto found Ren slumped on the bench in front of her building smelling like barbecue and whiskey. His tie was loose and his hair, instead of the clean part he donned in the morning, looked as if he ran a hand through it repeatedly. His usual hunched posture looked _too_ hunched over. 

Makoto pinched the bridge of her nose. _This is all my fault_. _I was the one who rushed him out_.

“How long have you been waiting here?” she said.

He stood up at the sound of her voice with his hands in his pockets. “Hey. You look nice,” he said. “The lunch was great, by the way.” His words seemed to slur a bit. 

Her brows furrowed. “Are you ok?”

He brought a hand to his face and sat down. “Yeah, I’m just really exhausted.”

Had he really drank that much? Did he have a bad first day at work? Maybe his coworkers didn’t invite him to drink? 

But this is Ren we’re talking.

Makoto took her seat next to him. 

“What happened?”

He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees, cradling his head. 

He let out a long sigh. “Drinking with Ryuji, that’s what happened.”

Makoto frowned, tugging his forearm. “Come on, let’s get you inside and hydrated.”

***

A warm bath later, coupled with chugging two liters of water, Ren felt more like himself. The room no longer spun, and sensation returned to his face. He was finishing up some policy research, hoping to be ahead of his deadlines. Another tab on his browser was a rental listings website.

Makoto, ready for bed in a black and white Buchimaru pajama set, shoved another liter of water into his hands. The look she gave him left no room for negotiation. He opened the bottle and finished half of it.

“Hey, can I share something random?” she asked in a low voice, not wanting to wake up the passed-out Morgana at the foot of the bed. He felt the mattress sink as she took a seat opposite him at the far end of the sofa bed. 

“I don’t think pillow talk was outlined as an expectation.”

Makoto gave him an annoyed look. “You’re so cheesy.”

He smirked, closing the laptop. “What’s on your mind?”

A downcast look took form on her features. She hugged her knees to her chest, facing him. 

“I don’t know if you remember this—I don’t know why I’m bringing up something so trivial—but, remember back in high school you said I’d find someone someday?” 

“I do, funnily enough,” he said. He felt a lump in his throat. He silently beckoned for her to continue.

“Going to that blind group date made me realize something. Maybe I should just cut my losses and accept failure. Because what if I’ve peaked?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I was talking to this guy,” she began. “He somehow knew my ex.” 

Ren inwardly flinched. He didn’t like where this was going.

“I heard he got married soon after he broke up with me. It was a mere three months. He and his wife are now expecting their first child.”

“Makoto, who cares?” 

She balked at him in response.

Ren cleared his throat. “Sorry, let me rephrase that; why do you care about a guy you didn’t want to marry?”

“Hm, I never thought of it like that.” She brought a hand to her chin. “But, I guess I care because...he was my only serious relationship.” She winced. “Well, technically the second, but I don’t count the first one because he ended up being married. I mean, what is it with married men and me?” she gave a nervous laugh as she poked fun at her mishaps.

Ren, on the other hand, didn’t laugh. Instead, he found himself restraining himself lest his responses sound snappy. 

Makoto continued. “We lasted a year barely. He was considerate and reliable. We were happy. We’d even discussed marriage. But his interest in me started to fade. Maybe we were going too fast. Either way, he ended up finding someone new and younger.” 

He kept his face neutral, trying to hold himself back in telling her: _why are you telling me this_.

“I just feel like I’m running out of time. I also have a biological clock.” She jerked her head up, flushing at the implication. “B-But my main point is, what if he was that ‘someone’ I would find one day? And now it’s the end of the line for me? Anyway, I’m not expecting any sort of answer. Thank you for listening, though.”

Ren carefully considered his words.

“It _can_ be the end of the line, but only if you want it to be.” He looked at his hands on his lap. “Maybe it’s a matter of _what_ rather than _when_. Instead of thinking, ‘when will I find someone,’ you can see it as ‘what do I want my life to be like when I do find someone.’ Live your life as you want to live it, not based on some potential partner. Maybe along the way, you’ll find that someone who loves the happy, authentic you.” He found his mouth running dry as he finished. 

She stared at him as if she were trying to process his words. She broke into a giggle. “You always know what to say. You know so much.”

“Not as much as you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, you.” 

They shared a small laugh.

After bidding each other good night, Ren moved to turn off the living room lamp, and soon after, the lights in Makoto’s room followed. 

Despite the long day, sleep arrived for him much later.


	4. Chapter 4

For the fourth time, Makoto hit the snooze button on her alarm clock. She rolled onto her Buchi-kun pillow, inhaling the cherry almond scent of her shampoo, noticing how heavy her muscles felt all over. The smooth silk of her sleeping mask soothed her tired, dry eyes, and she was content to laze in the small beams of daylight that began to slowly brighten her room. 

This past week she found herself smiling once it was time to head home after work, and not just because a hot shower and her bed waited for her. While she and Ren were mostly out for the entire day, they would catch up with each other at night before one of them passed out (most of the time, it was her). It felt as if he had been living with her for months rather than one week. 

A sound of frantic doorbell ringing and knocking on her door interrupted the peace of sleeping in on a Saturday morning. She yawned (again), dragging herself to answer who could be so inconsiderate to disturb her well-earned rest.

Her back straightened when she met the piercing eyes of Sae, laden with circles under her eyes. There was a frazzled look on her face as several bags weighed down her shoulder, along with a fold-up stroller tucked at her side. Makoto’s gaze softened when she saw her little niece wrapped around her, still half asleep.

“Please. I need a favor,” Sae pleaded.

Without pretense, she placed the toddler into Makoto’s grasp. Makoto gently swayed the child to not startle her from her sleep, unlike someone else.

Sae strode past her into her apartment, unloading the bags onto her dining table, each one landing with a thud. “There’s an urgent matter, and we both have to go into the office this morning. All her clothes, snacks, toys, and diapers are all here.”

“Sis, you could’ve called or texted me.”

“I did. Three calls and ten text messages.”

Makoto winced. How did she not hear her phone? Oh, that’s right, she worked fifty-five hours this past week. She has a legitimate reason to ignore her phone on her day off. 

Sae waved an envelope, placing it next to the diaper bags. “And here are the tickets.”

“Tickets?”

“We were all supposed to go to Destinyland today. It’s all she’s been talking about. Please.”

“But I’m sure she’d rather go with her mom and dad. Couldn’t you have just rescheduled?”

Sae’s lips formed into a thin line. “It’s past the twenty-four hour cancellation period. Look, this time, you have my permission to spoil her rotten. Especially today.”

Makoto frowned. She loved every moment with her three-and-a-half-year-old niece who was growing up too fast (she will always be an infant in her eyes). Still, like any child, she was akin to a recently-escaped chimpanzee who bounced off the walls with the same intensity for twelve hours straight until she dropped. 

Not to mention mischievous; just when Makoto thought nothing worse could happen, the toddler always found a way to one-up Makoto’s idea of trouble. 

(She understood why Sae needed a break now and then. But there also went her plans to catch up on sleep.)

Just then, a pair of footsteps stopped at her front door. 

Clad in exercise attire, stood Ren, frozen at the entrance as if debating whether he should enter or leave upon seeing who was in the room. 

Sae turned around, following her sister’s gaze over her shoulder. 

“Ren,” Makoto said with a nervous laugh. She completely forgot he would’ve been sleeping in the living room listening to her and Sae’s hushed conversation. 

Sae shot Makoto a look before turning to Ren.

“Well, hello. It’s been a while,” Sae greeted, crossing her arms.

“Uh, yeah, it has.” Ren was still standing at the doorway.

“What brings you here to my sister’s place? I thought you lived in Shizuoka—”

“—He works for the Diet Affairs Committee chief now. He’s just staying here until he finds a place,” Makoto interrupted.

“Congratulations.”

Ren just nodded. 

Sae turned to Makoto with a stern expression. “I take it he’ll be going with you?” she said in a low voice.

“I don’t know! He just got here,” Makoto harshly whispered back.

“Anyway,” Makoto said, walking past Sae, “don’t you have to go now, Sis?” She hoped her sister took the hint to _get out of here because you’re making Ren feel uncomfortable_.

“You’re right,” Sae realized. She bent towards Makoto’s shoulder to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “Be a good girl and don’t give your aunt too much trouble.”

Ren immediately stepped aside for Sae to pass. Sae paused in front of him. “Relax,” she said over her shoulder. “I know you’ll be good to Makoto and my daughter. Congratulations again.”

“Thank you,” Ren readily agreed. 

Makoto heard Ren exhale the second she closed the door.

“I am so sorry about that. She literally just barged in.”

“No worries. It’s just—I had no idea you were an aunt,” he said, eyeing the toddler she was holding. 

Makoto gave a little start upon realizing that Ren didn’t know about her niece until now. 

“Oh! Yes, this is my niece, Aya. I told you Sae got married, right? I can’t believe I forgot to mention they had a kid.”

“Don’t worry, I forgive you for neglecting to tell me about such a minor detail,” he said with a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

He made his way to the kitchen to pour himself some water. “So, what’s this about me going with you somewhere?”

Makoto readjusted her hold on the sleeping child. “Oh! You heard that huh,” she said, blinking to the side. “Sae and her husband were supposed to take her to Destinyland today. They already bought the tickets.” 

She gestured to the envelope. “Instead, her on-call babysitter will take her,” she said. Ren gave a little smile at her self-proclaimed title. 

She paused, dipping her chin slightly. “There’s an extra ticket if you want to join. But! I know you have plans, so don’t feel pressured to say yes.” 

Aya stirred a little, probably ruffled from her aunt’s inward squirming. 

Ren took a sip from his glass of water. “Sure. I’ll go.”

“Huh?”

Ren repeated himself.

“But don’t you have plans? Weren’t you going to look at some apartments?”

“I can do that tomorrow. Besides,” he said, surveying the stroller and splay of overflowing bags on the table, “you look like you could use some help.”

Makoto stared at him. 

“A-Are you sure? I feel bad. I’m being a huge inconvenience to you.”

“Not at all. It’ll be fun today,” he said. “It’ll be like a date.” 

She ignored the rush of her heartbeat. “For some reason, I have a feeling you just want to see me in an embarrassing situation,” Makoto said, feeling heat creep up her neck.

“I would never.”

“You’re insufferable. Even at six in the morning.”

Ren chuckled at that.

***

“Care to join us?” Ren asked. He was helping consolidate Aya’s diaper bags so that he only had to carry one. Makoto was in her room, helping her already wide-awake niece get dressed.

“And suffocate from all the awkward sexual tension between you two? Forget it.” Morgana said with a scowl. “I’m perfectly fine having this bed all to myself.” He stretched and rolled in the middle of the bed, all over where Ren slept.

Ren shook his head. “There is nothing awkward going on between us,” he said placidly. 

Morgana made a distasteful noise. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Ren wanted to retort, _I got friendzoned on Sunday just so you know,_ but stopped himself. “You’re seeing things,” he replied instead. 

Morgana sat up on his belly, tilting his head. “You know, I could see it happening. I ship it.”

Ren restrained himself from throwing a pack of baby wipes at him.

Morgana snickered. “You’re not fooling anyone, especially me. I’ve seen you flirt, but this—this is on another level. You are _so_ awkward when it comes to her. I cringe at all your sorry attempts to make her blush and laugh.”

This damn not-cat is too observant for his own good.

“Plus, you guys have _history,”_ he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, when are you going to tell her that you love and want to marry her?” he said a little too loud.

Ren unseemingly jumped upon hearing Makoto call out to her niece from her room. Ren’s eyes widened as he clumsily gestured to Morgana to be quiet. _She might hear you!_

Morgana grinned triumphantly, knowing that that break in his mask just gave him away. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Just don’t forget to bring me back some food,” he whispered.

Ren pointed with disdain at the grilled mackerel and rice he left on the table for him.

“I know, but I just want what you guys are eating,” Morgana crooned, rolling onto his back. 

Ren sighed and rolled his eyes. 

***

Makoto is not nervous. They’re just two friends going on a not-date. Two friends who previously made love and are now spending a day together with her toddler niece. 

But to any observer, they looked like just another young couple taking their daughter to Destinyland on a Saturday. 

(It didn’t help that said daughter’s face bore a strong resemblance to Makoto. Sae had commented once that their mom’s genes ran strong.)

Makoto glanced at Ren, who looked charming in his jeans and black long-sleeved button-up shirt, save for the large pink baby bag and stroller that he lugged on the train. A flutter in her stomach teased her as she thought about what it would be like to have a family with him. 

She leaned her forehead against her niece’s head, holding the child close on her lap. 

Yeah, she is definitely not nervous.

If the obvious implications of their situation bothered Ren, he didn’t show it. As was his nature, he took the inconvenience in stride, including having a three-and-a-half-year-old propped on his shoulders pulling at his hair as they waited in line. It was only nine-thirty in the morning, and there was already a line at the merry-go-round of all rides.

“Aya, stop it, no more shoulder rides if you keep pulling on Ren-Ren’s hair,” Makoto said in a firm voice.

“She’s not stopping because she can tell you find this comical and secretly want it to continue,” Ren half-joked.

“I would never,” she joked back. A frown tugged on her face at the sign displaying the wait time: forty-five minutes. 

Ren looked at her with a wry grin. “It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me. Yet. Whoa—” The child’s small hands pulled forcefully on his head as she tried to hoist herself up, trying to bend a leg to prop on his shoulder. 

“I want it!” she whined. She and Ren looked up: the girl was trying to reach for a decorative pink lantern that dangled above him. 

“Whoa there, little one, that’s too high. Even I can’t reach that,” Ren said. He picked her up off of his shoulders and gently set her on her feet. Aya began making a complaining noise, waving her arms up at Ren. 

Makoto took a deep breath, crossing her arms. 

“No, Aya, no more shoulder rides, you could’ve fallen had Ren-Ren not stopped you.”

Aya’s complaining noise only rose in volume, her arms waving animatedly. 

“No,” Makoto said with a stern face. 

Aya complained even louder, now jumping up and down, beckoning for Ren to carry her.

Makoto gritted her teeth. “Aya, no—”

Ren crouched down, dipping his head to reach the toddler’s level. “Hey, let’s listen to Auntie, okay? We’ll go to the store after this and find a lantern like that. So let’s stand instead, okay?” he said in a gentle voice. “Give me five,” he offered.

Aya shyly bumped her tiny palm against his. Ren grinned. “Good job, little one,” he affirmed. Aya let out a happy squeal. She took his hand, hopping in place and singing to herself for the duration of the line. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Makoto mumbled.

Ren leaned in mockingly. “What was that, Auntie?”

She pursed her lips. “You know, your sweet-talking is not going to work on her for long.”

“Oh? Unlike _you_. Isn’t that right?”

Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to have Ren here. Now, she had two devils to deal with. 

***

“Look, it’s Ronald Duck!” Ren said in a loud voice.

Aya’s head snapped to where Ren gestured. Makoto found herself suddenly rushing to Ren’s side. “Where?” she asked hurriedly, her eyes darting to and fro searching for the giant mascot. The inner child in her loved taking photos with the mascots.

“Right here,” Ren said, pointing to an actual duck. It waddled around a trail of wrappers coming from an overflowing trash can.

Aya bursted out in a sing-songy laugh, clapping her hands.

Makoto deflated, shamefaced that she fell for Ren’s stupid joke.

They found themselves standing in front of a gloomy, two-story building. A family, including the father, ran out of the exit _screaming_. Makoto heard evil laughter and bats squeaking from the shrouded house, and saw a shadow of a figure appear behind the house’s top window in a flash of theatrical lightning. A ride attendant with a creepy smile motioned at her to enter.

She felt Ren give her a little nudge. Makoto looked away, walking with her niece in tow. “Don’t even think about it.”

Ren caught up to them, chuckling. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I just don’t like it, okay?”

“Ms. Fist of the North Star and Inspector is afraid of fake ghosts.”

“That was a long time ago, _Ryuji_. Besides, I know it’s all fake, I just don’t want to go.”

Ren smirked. “Aya wants to go—”

“And _do not_ even think about bringing Aya into this. I’m not going in, end of discussion.”

Ren closed his mouth, but not without shooting a devilish grin at her. 

*** 

“Ren, this is not a date,” she said, tensing at the word _date_. “Stop paying for everything.”

“It’s the least I can do, especially for the little Makoto,” he teased, handing Makoto and Aya each a cup of ice cream. 

Makoto shot him a look.

Ren just playfully grinned back.

After finishing her ice cream, Aya soon took an interest in Ren’s french fries. One at a time, she dipped a chip into Makoto’s ketchup only to lick it off and throw the fry across the table. Five consecutive times.

The sixth one landed on Makoto’s forehead.

“That’s it.” Makoto—with fry grease smeared above her furrowed eyebrows—stood up and snatched the fries and ketchup away from the toddler’s sticky hands. She marched off, tossing the food into the trash bin.

Aya broke into a cry when she met Makoto’s glare.

“That’s so you don’t make a mess again,” Makoto said in a firm voice, sitting down and wiping her face. 

Her niece’s crying evolved into shrieking as she kicked and slammed her fists down on the high chair in frustration.

Ren picked her up and placed her on his lap. “Now, now, be nice to Auntie, she’ll buy you more food as long as you don’t throw it,” he cooed.

Aya whimpered at Ren’s words. Then broke out into a cry again, squirming in his grasp.

“So dramatic,” Makoto sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“She gets it from her mom.”

Makoto’s head shot up. “Ren.”

“Sorry. It’s just, I know she still hates me.”

“She doesn’t _hate_ you.”

Ren shot her a deadpan look.

Makoto blinked to the side, lifting a hand. “She’s just...overprotective,” she tried to recover.

“Right.”

Aya’s bawling continued, but gradually stopped when she noticed another child walking by carrying colorful balloons that glowed and played the theme park’s tune.

“You know, you’re pretty good at this,” Makoto observed. “This isn’t your first time taking care of a child, right?” 

“Not really,” he readily answered. “Sumire had little cousins we’d watch.”

“I see,” she replied, forcing her voice to remain steady. 

He spoke of her so casually and still thought of them as a unit. They were integrated into each other’s lives. She was right to keep things platonic—

“Uh, Makoto?” Ren asked. His uncertain tone drew her out of her thoughts. 

“Huh?”

“I think little Makoto has to use the bathroom.” She followed Ren’s gaze to Aya’s soaked bottom. Makoto gasped, mortified.

“Ren, I am _so_ sorry!” 

She dashed to the nearest bathroom, Aya and diaper bag in tow.

***

Makoto didn’t want to admit that Ren was the only one who had ever beat her at Jack Frost Mania. It wasn’t just a shooting game; it was _the_ shooting game at which she excelled.

It didn’t matter, because somehow Ren knew that, and goaded her to no end, even as they ascended aboard the Ferris Wheel. 

It was all fun and games until someone (or rather someone’s feelings) got hurt.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about that game,” Ren dared to say. Neither of them acknowledged that she’d been actively ignoring him for the past thirty minutes. 

Silence.

Ren sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset you by rubbing my victory in your face. It’s just funny when you get so into it.”

She’ll never live down her serious nature.

Ren tried again. “It’s funny because you’re such a brilliant badass who’s getting worked up over some silly game.”

Makoto shifted the weight of a now dry and sleeping Aya who clung to her, still looking off to the almost-setting sun. 

“Mako, stop being so hard on yourself.”

She loosened her shoulders, but averted his gaze. She let out a relenting sigh. “I know. It’s moreso I’m mad at myself. I’m still a recovering perfectionist with a lot to learn.”

“There you go. Progress, not perfection.”

She slightly angled her body away, hesitating. “I’m sorry I got mad at you,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Ren said, rubbing his neck.

“And I’m sorry you got peed on.” 

“It’s water under the bridge.”

A wave of relief washed over them. Still, their eyes flitted to and from each other, unbalanced from the intimacy of losing face. 

Suddenly, a loud screeching noise tore through the air. The gondola swung back and forth from the abrupt halt, and Makoto braced herself, afraid to let Aya go. She felt one of Ren’s arms press around her, like he was safeguarding her from an impending danger. Makoto looked up, meeting his wide eyes. 

“Did—” Makoto started.

The sound of a jingle rang. “Everyone, it appears the ride is experiencing some technical difficulties. Our staff is actively fixing the issue. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

They instantly backed away from each other.

“Of course this would happen,” he groaned, bringing a palm to his forehead. 

Makoto barely suppressed a chuckle. “And there it is. The body odor and greasy food are finally getting to you.” 

Ren smirked back. “Good thing—” he began, eyeing the sleeping child wrapped around her. “Actually, I’m not going to say anything.”

“Good idea,” Makoto agreed.

A contemplative silence descended between them as if they were individually processing that this was happening and that they had to come to terms with their situation. Makoto looked to Ren, whose face was inscrutable. She wondered what he was thinking.

She readjusted her hold on Aya, feeling her shoulders lock at what she was about to ask. “Hey. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened with you and Sumire?” Her inner critic did a facepalm at how mousy her voice sounded. 

“Wow. That escalated quickly.”

“Not fair. I shared my dating past, now it’s your turn,” she defended. 

Ren regarded her with a smug look. “You know, you usually preface loaded questions with some wine and a nice lead-in.”

Makoto scowled. She fell for the bait for him to poke fun at her lack of suaveness. “Well, we obviously don’t have wine—”

“I’m kidding, Makoto.”

There was a pause, each unsure of who was going to speak first. 

Then.

“I guess, I just always thought it’d be you and her to be the first ones married,” Makoto murmured.

Ren gaped at her. 

“I mean, ten years, that’s a long time,” she added, finally looking at him. “If _you_ guys didn’t make it, then there’s no hope for any of us.”

Ren shifted at her half-joke, crossing his arms and legs. But then he looked away. His features tensed and relaxed as if he were debating with himself on what to say. A mix of pain and recollection shaded his features.

***

Ren didn’t like to talk about Sumire. Other than the obligatory announcement to the group, ‘ _we broke up for good_ ,’ during a spontaneous Phantom Thief get-together, that was all he mentioned. Despite Ann and Haru’s prodding, and everyone else’s well-intentioned, offhanded comments about being there to listen, he didn’t want to divulge much else. Makoto wasn’t there, of course, grown apart as they had. 

But she was here now. Long ago, she was once his closest confidant. Her questions were always thought-provoking, and her compassion was authentic. Being with her made him want to ask his own questions and share his thoughts out loud. 

He found himself spilling everything so easily to her.

***

Makoto heard Ren heave a sigh. His voice no longer contained that playful lilt he often used with her; instead, it was softer. Vulnerable. 

“There was a time, yes, that I thought we’d eventually get married.” 

Makoto felt a familiar pinch in her gut. 

He continued quietly. “Things were going steady, and we were happy. We got so used to each other. She tried hard to be her own person, to not be so dependent on me.”

Makoto listened patiently. The gondola oscillated into a slow lulling rhythm, and she wondered if his thoughts swayed between trust and worry.

“It felt good to be needed by her. I felt wanted. It felt rewarding that _I_ was the main reason why she was getting better. But we’d soon got to a point where I didn’t know where I ended and she began.”

He shook his head. “She’d get so hurt—no, devastated—if we weren’t always together outside of her gymnastics practices. I just couldn’t say no to her, because I was afraid of how badly she’d take it. It was hard for me to call her out on her behavior, even when it was behavior she wanted me to call her out on, because that might tip her over, and I’d lose her.”

He continued. “It felt like she would relapse if not for my constant efforts to keep her afloat. Pretty soon, I had no life outside of her. My life _became_ her and keeping her on the right path. But in the end, I wasn’t happy anymore.”

Makoto sat still. “I wouldn’t have suspected that at all,” she said in a soft voice. “You guys looked so happy together.”

Ren gave a small start at that.

“The last three years were the most difficult. I even thought of cheating, but couldn’t get myself to do it. It was wrong. We broke up initially only for a week. She said she’d hurt herself if I didn’t stay, so I agreed to give it one more chance.” 

Makoto stiffened. That explains somewhat why he reached out to her that week. If cheating had been on his mind, she probably wasn’t the only one he slept with that week. 

He gave an uneasy laugh, lifting a hand to rub his neck. “Come to think of it, we barely fought. It was always too risky for me to assert myself because that might set her spiraling down again. She’d blame herself endlessly if I showed even a twinge of displeasure. It was much easier to smooth things over and not rock the boat.”

He looked to the floor. All Makoto could hear was his calm voice, Aya’s soft breathing, and the creak of the cabin rocking. 

“When she finally did have a relapse, I felt entirely responsible. Like I failed to be her source of inspiration and strength. Her parents blamed me for undoing all her efforts to get better. Hell, I feel like some of our friends blame me for being selfish.” 

Makoto opened her mouth to say something.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he gave an exasperated sigh, “that it isn’t entirely my fault, and I shouldn’t think like it is. But it’s hard not to.”

She closed her mouth. Her mind reeled; she couldn’t focus, much less put a name to the storm of emotions that clashed within her. 

Compassion for a vulnerable Sumire. Empathy for Sumire’s fear of being alone and her enduring feelings of inferiority and guilt towards her sister. 

Empathy for Ren’s need to feel wanted. Relief for Ren ending what became an unhappy relationship. 

Defensiveness towards Sumire’s parents for blaming him. Connectedness to him in that he confided in her. 

Jealousy that his and Sumire’s love was strong enough to last ten years. Envy that he chose Sumire over her all those years ago, despite what once was their close bond. 

Humiliation of making a mistake thinking there was something between them. 

Shame of her inability to let go of something so trivial, and guilt for feeling this way.

She felt the air become thicker the longer she waited to give a response. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted quietly. 

Ren simply nodded. She scooted back in her seat, feeling herself slip off the plastic seating.

“It’s okay. You can say it,” Ren prompted. The look on her face gave away that she was hesitating. 

“I’m just surprised, is all. How soon you started dating again,” she reluctantly said.

He looked up to her. “What?”

“Well, I find it hard to believe you haven’t dated around for the past nine months.”

He uncrossed his arms and legs, sitting back. “I’ve only had a couple of Cinder dates here and there for the past three months. Nothing serious.”

Makoto bristled. People went on that app for one thing only; she could surely attest to _that_.

She felt her pulse quicken as she spoke. “I guess, if I had just gotten out of a ten-year relationship, I don’t know if I could ever date again for the next five years.” 

She didn’t mention, _if I ever ended a ten-year relationship_ with you _I would never be able to get over you._

Ren gave a short laugh. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“You speak of it so casually, as if you’re telling me to try a new shampoo,” Makoto said with a questioning look.

A pause. 

He shook his head, looking at his hands. “The thing is, Mako, you don’t need anyone to save you,” he said in a low voice. 

Makoto looked up at him with widened eyes. There was a flash of something in his eyes, and then it was gone. 

Makoto didn’t know what to say to that. What does one say to that? 

She swallowed, unsure of how he was taking her responses. She tightened her hold on Aya. “I can’t imagine how hard it is for you, harboring that guilt. It’s hard not to feel guilty over what happened.”

She paused.

“Though you _were_ selfish.” 

Ren snapped up to look at her, incredulous. 

She closed her eyes and slightly dipped down her chin. “Let me explain. It is quite selfish, borderline narcissistic even, to assume you’re the only one she needed for her well-being. You’re not her Savior,” she gently reprimanded, looking him in the eye. 

He tensed at that label as if she were right. 

“Not helping,” he said, glancing off to the side.

“What I mean to say is, you’re never responsible for the actions of others, nor their healing. ‘You’re only responsible for you,’” she breathed.

“Heh. You would quote a book.”

She continued in a steady voice, despite feeling her throat run dry. “It’s probably not in my place to say, but I hope one day, you can forgive yourself.”

Ren flinched, his gray eyes widening in disbelief. A clumsy, high-pitched noise escaped her throat. She suddenly felt exposed. 

“Not that your ego needs more stroking, but...” she said in a shaky voice. “I admire the courage it took to get your life back, to get yourself back. It’s never easy setting boundaries, especially with someone you love—um, care about. But you did it. Yet another item to add to our fearless leader’s List of Accomplishments.” 

Caught in the fervor of stumbling over her candid, cheesy words, she daringly bumped her foot against his as an encouraging gesture. 

Ren was still. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it as if he suddenly forgot what he was going to say. 

Then, he gave a quiet, earnest laugh. He gently bumped his foot against hers in return. “That was a long time ago, _Queen_.” 

Makoto grinned. She shifted in her seat, feeling her niece rub her face along her collarbone. 

“But really, thank you, Mako,” she heard Ren say in a smaller voice.

She inwardly cataloged and giggled at the color over his cheekbones that was definitely _not_ from the sunset. 

“Of course, Ren. What are friends for?”

“Yeah,” she heard him say. She thought she saw him hesitate for a second. 

Suddenly, he jerked forward. Makoto felt Aya stir, nudging to lie her head on Makoto’s other shoulder as the cabin jolted back in motion. A feeling of relief replaced the tense air as Makoto heard clapping and the mumble of other riders releasing their worries. 

“Looks like my soul-baring moment is over,” Ren joked. 

She let out a small giggle. “I’m sorry. Leave it to me to make things awkward, right?”

Ren nodded. “Now you understand my pain.”

Makoto rolled her eyes. “Such dramatics.” 

“Compliment accepted.”

“You know you’re just making a fool out of yourself, right?” 

“That’s the point. Because you like it.”

Makoto just shook her head. She didn’t know what else to say and thus lost that battle. 

The sun was down by the time they exited the Ferris Wheel. Two lines of ride operators flanked them, apologizing profusely. 

Being back on solid ground settled her nerves, yet somehow she couldn’t ignore how her mind kept looping back to the image of Ren with Sumire.

***

“Look, Aya, they’re going to show the fireworks soon. Can you say _hanabi_?”

“Ha-na-bi,” she pronounced. 

“Yes,” Makoto hummed, bouncing her slightly. 

“Good job,” Ren praised at the same time. Aya high-fived him, this time without Makoto’s prompting. Makoto couldn’t help but smile at that.

There was a collective hush among the crowd as the first sparkle of light flashed in an arc over the castle, just like in the movies. Couples wrapped their arms around each other, and families huddled together as the sky transformed into magical swirls of starlight. She thought she felt Ren’s shoulder graze hers.

Makoto stiffened. 

It only took him six months to start sleeping with other girls after a ten-year relationship? It took her a _year_ to get over her last boyfriend, and she was with him for only one year. It wasn’t her concern, but she wondered how Sumire was handling their breakup.

Who’s to say Ren wouldn’t leave her, only to quickly find a new girl just like how her ex had speedily replaced her? 

Or cheat on her if they ever got married, just like her first serious boyfriend, who cheated on his wife with her? Politicians were notorious womanizers, and she refused to be disrespected like that again. 

Cheating has also crossed Ren’s mind before.

Despite her physical chemistry with him, the truth was she didn’t know how to sustain a relationship. She could barely keep a guy for a year.

She never learned her lesson with Ren. It all began in high school when she experienced her first heartbreak, when she misread all his looks and his close partnership with her as something romantic. A mistake because he ended up giving his heart to Sumire for _ten whole years_. 

She didn’t learn her lesson again after they first slept together, only to be his rebound and for him to bounce back to Sumire not a week later. Yes, he felt obligated, but he had a choice, and he chose Sumire. Again.

But now, this time, she finally caught herself and learned.

Love never lasts, at least for her. Even if she and Ren were to get together, he’d eventually leave her for someone new. She’d be better off accepting her loneliness. 

She had a successful career, supportive girlfriends, a beautiful niece, and a better relationship with Sae because of her. 

She will be okay without a husband. Screw what society thought of her.

As she stared at the glittering flowers blooming into the night sky with moist eyes, she thought she felt Ren’s gaze on her. It was probably her imagination again.

But what _was_ real was how she instantly relaxed upon witnessing a (finally) quiet and still Aya, her eyes transfixed in wonder at the fireworks as if she spent years imagining what the sky looked like, and she was finally seeing it for the first time. The look on her innocent eyes made her melt. Under the starry lights, she kissed and nuzzled her niece’s soft cheek, cherishing this warm and bright moment with her family. 

Perhaps the magical music was getting to her, but at that brief point in time, she just wanted to stand there with her. All was well in the world.

 _I’m going to be okay,_ she sniffled.

***

“I must say, I’m truly shocked,” Sae said, picking up her slumbering daughter from the couch. “Right now, she would be bargaining with us so she doesn’t have to sleep.”

“You’re welcome,” Makoto said with a smug smile, smoothing the toddler’s black hair. The little girl stirred awake from the movement.

She opened her eyes and looked at Makoto. She blinked at Ren. Then she came face-to-face with her mother.

Then she began to cry, wailing ‘Auntie’ and ‘Wen-Wen,’ as she tried to twist her way out of Sae’s arms to reach Makoto. 

The three adults shared a resigned look. 

After ten minutes of trying to pacify the child by promising another day with Auntie and Ren-Ren, Makoto closed the door. She turned to face an equally exasperated Ren.

“You can relax now, she’s gone,” Makoto smiled.

“I know,” Ren exhaled. His shoulders slackened as he casually stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“You should use the shower first. I mean, you did get peed on.”

“That’s something I can agree to.” He smirked. 

Makoto stopped herself before turning to head to her room. “Hey, Ren? Thank you, for today.”

“Of course. I’d do anything for you.”

She mirrored his cheeky smile as they high-fived each other. 

“We did it,” she laughed. “We make an excellent team, don’t we?” she said. 

There was a pause. 

Ren didn’t say anything back. 

Something in the room shifted. Makoto was suddenly aware of how close their bodies were as he took a step towards her. He searched her eyes, only breaking eye contact once to steal a glance at her lips.

Makoto froze. Somehow, she knew that they both saw this coming. 

He carefully cupped her jaw and stared at her with an intensity she didn’t expect to see since that night at the wedding.

“It’s so exhausting pretending I don’t want to be more than friends, Mako,” he breathed. 

Her lips began to move together with his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading.
> 
> So I have something very important to share. The one and only talented artist [@ace4_2](https://twitter.com/ace4_2) on twitter made a [piece](https://twitter.com/ace4_2/status/1284364255051972610) based on what you just read: 
> 
> [](https://twitter.com/ace4_2/status/1284364255051972610)  
>  Isn't it just beautiful? ;___; *cries some more*  
>    
>  Please go [follow her](https://twitter.com/ace4_2), to say that her art is amazing is putting it mildly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, dear readers. Three things:
> 
> 1) The tag ‘Smut’ has been on this fic from the get-go for a reason. This is another warning.  
> 2) I am very humbled and thankful you’re reading this story. This will be updated every 2-3 weeks.  
> 3) The one and only talented artist [@ace4_2](https://twitter.com/ace4_2) on twitter made a piece based on the ending scene of Chapter 4. I am speechless T_T. Please check out her glorious fanart piece [here](https://twitter.com/ace4_2/status/1284364255051972610)!
> 
> Thanks again.

A heady feeling took over Makoto as she felt Ren’s mouth on hers. Her mind, slowly succumbing to a spell, raced with thoughts at the speed of her heart palpitating as if it knew it would drown in a matter of seconds. A familiar shudder awakened in her core. 

Ren was kissing her. 

Ren just told her he wanted to be more than friends. 

And the way his hand possessively gripped her waist against his body strongly implied he wanted to make love to her.

His lips explored hers softly and tenderly as if he were trying to relish her taste and burn it into his memory. 

As if he wanted her all this time.

Her lips began to move together with his. She felt her legs slightly part at the thought of his hands touching her elsewhere where she ached. He seemed to sense this as he tightened his hold on her and gave a soft, velvety stroke of his tongue.

She was wandering into dangerous territory. This was her friend of eleven years, someone she respected and relied on. Crossing the line of friendship, again, could threaten their bond for good this time. Her mind frantically searched for answers to break out of the mesmerizing haze.

But Makoto would be lying if she said she didn’t want his body on hers. 

The truth was, there was a hidden, vulnerable spot for him in her heart even when they were both committed to someone else. It was unfair to her then-partners, but it was the truth. He was her first real connection and her first love, even if he didn’t reciprocate her feelings. She forced her feelings down enough when she accepted he would never give his heart to her.

Her mind teetered on the edge of insanity and reason. It was either one or the other; she couldn’t have both. Because only in an insane stroke of luck would he want to be in a serious relationship with her and not leave her. 

After all, he was single and had his share of lonely Saturday nights like her, and she happened to be in the right place and time to satisfy him. Another private moment behind closed doors consumed them. Again.

A maddening rush of pleasure washed over her when she felt his mouth start to trail her jaw and neck. “Ren,” she heard herself embarrassingly gasp out as her hands bunched up the fabric over his firm chest. 

His deep groan in response didn’t do any favors for her reason; she only tilted her head back for him to claim the other side of her neck. All she could hear was her pulse pounding in her ears and how breathless they both were. 

She didn’t want him to stop.

A thought floated into her foggy state of mind. Maybe she could be open to something more than friends with him, even if it wasn’t something serious. She can enjoy it for what it was. 

Another gasp escaped her throat as one of his hands snaked its way underneath her blouse to her bra strap. 

But nothing came undone except for her dignity when she heard Morgana’s voice. 

“Oh my god.”

She released herself immediately from Ren, her arms crossed protectively over her chest as if Ren had succeeded in unclasping her bra. 

Ren, a second late, whipped around. 

There was a tense pause as the three of them stared at each other.

A repulsive look settled on Morgana’s features as he recoiled, backing away towards the balcony door. “Oh my god,” Morgana repeated. “I...I need to get out of here.” 

“Wait, Morgana!”

Morgana’s face snapped to hers as reason found its way back to Makoto again. She held out an arm to stop him. 

Her voice sounded unbalanced, foolish. “Don’t leave. I’m so sorry; you didn’t need to see that. Please, just stay. Okay?” 

Her plea hung in the awkward, stiff air. She felt the shame rise in her each second Morgana didn’t say anything. 

She couldn’t take it anymore. In a failed attempt to salvage the remaining pieces of her self-respect, she fled to her room.

In haste, she locked her door and crumpled against the wall with a palm to her lips in case any uncontrolled noise unleashed itself as her body had seconds ago. Her rational side wanted to make a list of what just happened so she could establish some kind of order to her chaotic thoughts, but shame drowned that voice out.

She promised herself she wouldn’t let another in unless she could tell that person would be in it for the long-run. And even then, admittedly, she couldn’t say she fully trusted herself to discern that. Her experiences thus far in dating shattered that trust in herself. 

Ren was getting the best of her, and that scared her. 

***

Midday light flooded Makoto’s room as she awoke. A good night’s rest did nothing to cast away the memory of a heated kiss nor put out the burning regret of a roommate walking in on her. 

Morgana would never see her in the same way again.

She didn’t dare take a step outside of her room last night to shower first lest she ran into Ren. She heard him use the shower shortly after they got walked in on (god, how embarrassing, it was like college) and made sure to scamper across the hall once it had been at least fifteen minutes after he turned off the living room lamp. 

It took her an hour to get dressed; it didn’t help to see some of his shirts hanging in her closet when she was deciding what to wear. She scanned her outfit from different angles: a black, slim long-sleeved top with a rust-colored A-line skirt cinched at her waist. Casual, but clean enough for her dreaded meet-up with Ann and Haru. 

What timing. It was as if the universe knew Ren would kiss her and leave her a confused mess when she scheduled the hangout days ago. 

She took a deep breath and poked her head out, glancing to her left and right, exhaling that he nor Morgana was nowhere in sight. She braved some bold steps out of her room, only for her forehead to run right into Ren’s chin. They bounced back from each other, rubbing a hand at the point of impact.

“Oh—”

“Sorry—”

He coughed. 

“I was just going to wake you up.”

“Oh,” she blurted.

“It’s a good thing you finally got to sleep in,” he commented.

She nodded, following him to the kitchen to help him unpack some grocery bags.

“I have some good news,” he said. “I found a place about a ten-minute train ride from here. I get the keys on Wednesday.”

For some reason, she almost dropped the carton of eggs she was holding. “Oh. That’s great, Ren,” she said into the fridge.

“Yeah. It’s a studio, but it’s even below my budget.”

“I’m glad to hear. So, will you be leaving on Wednesday?”

“Quick to get rid of me, are you?”

“Just you, not Morgana.”

“Ouch.”

They smirked at each other, somewhat dissipating the stilted air between them.

“So Wednesday it is then?” Makoto asked again. “I might be able to help you move in, though Saturday might be better.”

“I only have one luggage piece and a not-cat who can walk himself,” he smiled. Besides, you’ve done enough already, housing me.” He handed her two containers of strawberries.

She gave a small noise of assent.

Ren cleared his throat. “Speaking of Morgana, he actually left last night to Futaba’s.”

She shifted the weight of her feet, looking down. “I see. I’ll have to apologize to him when he gets back,” she trailed off. 

It was pointless. She walked right into the conversation she wanted to avoid. 

It seemed they both were thinking about last night because he wasn’t surprised at all at what she told him next.

“I don’t have any wine nor a nice lead-in,” she said, her back to the fridge.

He turned around to face her, leaning against the counter. “At least you’re honest about it, I’ll give you that.”

“You should go first,” she said in a weak attempt to stall. 

“I believe I’m the one who had the last word,” he countered with a small smile.

He was right.

“I’m confused,” was all she could think of to say. It seemed that was all she ever said these days. She hated how small she felt and sounded. 

A cool spring breeze wandered in from the open balcony door, despite the cloudless sky outside. She silently remarked to herself she made the right choice to wear a long-sleeved top.

He sighed, striding to the dining table to fold the empty grocery bags. “That makes two of us,” he mumbled with a quiet edge to his voice.

Her shoulders tensed at that; the knot in her gut tightened with each uneasy step she took towards him.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked in a cautious tone.

“You’re really going to make me say it.”

Makoto blinked.

“Make you say what?” 

He scoffed as the grocery bags plopped on the table. “We’re attracted to each other, yet you friendzone me. Twice, for the record. I’ll be damned if you friendzone me again this time.” His tone was mocking, scathing.

And it came out of nowhere. 

Alarm seized her gut. 

Friendzone? He agreed in both instances to keep things platonic, despite all his flirting. 

_You liked his flirting, you know_ , her inner critic chastised. She brushed the intrusive thought away.

This sounded like a Defining The Relationship talk. It’s only been about two weeks since they got together. Wasn’t this a little soon? Then again, she did want this talk right after they first slept together...

Yet the impatience in his tone only shoved it in her face that something was going on between them that they needed to address. Something magnetic, volatile; last night proved that much. Living together only expedited the inevitable. It scared her. 

“Where is this coming from? I didn’t _friendzone_ you! It was mutual; you agreed that we should stay friends.” 

“Only after you suggested that,” he said, looking away.

Her eyebrows furrowed at him as if he were a fussy teenager, dramatically complaining that there was no wi-fi, and it was her fault. “So this is _my_ fault? Why’d you agree to it then?”

As if he were exhausted from the argument he started, he took a seat at the dining table, bringing a hand to rub at his temples. He heaved a sigh as he leaned on the table.

“I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t say no to you. It’s just second nature,” he murmured.

She gawked at him, only to grant him a pointed look. 

“So clearly this argument is about your bruised ego and issues from your ex.” 

“What?” He gaped at her.

“You had a choice, Ren, regardless of your repeated behaviors. You had a choice to tell me the truth.”

He scoffed. “I didn’t ask to be psychoanalyzed.”

She took a step forward as she made a sweeping arm gesture. She was losing command of her voice, unable to hide her irritated tone. “I’m serious. Why didn’t you just tell me and be honest from the beginning? Why did you—” 

The chair screeched back as he stood, glowering at her. She felt an empty pang that all the softness and playful affection his eyes held for her was suddenly gone. Only a cool flame of resentment flickered underneath his dark lashes. She couldn’t remember ever upsetting him this much. 

“So do you want to be more than friends or not? Just tell me, so you can stop wasting my time.” She flinched at his raised voice; he never raised his voice at her. 

“Don’t have an answer? Of course you don’t,” he sneered when she didn’t answer right away.

A heavy pause, fraught with mistrust and scraped pride, descended between them. 

She lifted her chin, restraining herself from doing something as brash and hurtful as he did. She summoned all of the defiance she could on her face.

“There is no need to raise your voice at me,” she said evenly. “Sorry to be a waste of your time. And for the record, you’re acting like such a total dick right now.”

A staring contest ensued until Makoto’s phone conveniently vibrated. It was a notification that it was time to leave for her upcoming hangout with friends. 

Without a word, she marched to her room. She threw her purse over her shoulder and brusquely slipped on her heeled ankle boots. 

She slammed the front door as she exited, feeling her eyes grow hot and moist.

***

Makoto’s list of go-to friends for venting about the struggles of finding someone and being single slowly dwindled to zero. After Haru, Ann, and Eiko got boyfriends, the text messages and weekend brunches became less frequent. Makoto understood; they were focused on their significant others, and couldn’t relate anymore to the realities of being alone. 

Makoto groaned. Recently, there _was_ one person she felt entirely comfortable speaking to, but the problem was _he_ was the cause of her current worries.

“So who asked who first? It was him, wasn’t it?” Ann leaned in.

Haru grinned. “I cannot wait to hear about your wedding planning details. Though he’s been oddly quiet and hasn’t said anything to Hokuto. You two are such teases.”

The script she wrote out and rehearsed three times on how she was going to break the news to them suddenly escaped her mind.

She smoothed her sweaty palms on her skirt. “I’m sort of seeing someone else.”

Both of their jaws dropped at the same time. “Who?”

“He’s someone I met in school.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

“Do we know him?”

“No.” 

That was definitely not a lie.

“What’s his name?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Can we see a picture at least?”

“We want to keep things private.”

“We? Or _you_?” Haru said with a raised eyebrow. Ann made a face that told Makoto her act was reaching the brink of collapse.

“Anyway,” Makoto diverted, ignoring how Ann and Haru gave each other a look. “We like each other, but I’m having doubts.”

“It’s Ren, isn’t it?” Ann asked with bright eyes. Haru looked like she was trying to suppress a squeal.

“What? No!” She pushed back the heat climbing in her neck that would give her away. 

They looked at her with narrowed eyes.

She struggled to feign coolness. “We’re just friends.” 

“Friends playing house together,” Ann said with a devious smile. Makoto’s inner critic cursed her oversight.

“He’s just staying temporarily. He’s moving out this week.”

“Mmhmm,” they said to each other. 

“It’s not him, okay?” she pressed.

“I’m surprised, though. Isn’t it a little too soon for him to dive into another relationship? It’s pretty much like a divorce, considering how long they were together,” said Ann.

Haru nodded. “It _is_ a little too soon. Don’t you think so, Mako-chan?”

Discomfort wormed through her; she fought to muster up her best poker face. If she answered this openly, her insecurity would cut loose and surely give her and Ren away. But if she didn’t act interested, they might suspect her indifference. 

She felt herself nod. “I know the amount of time to get over an ex is different for everyone. But, I do think it’s a little too soon if he is in another serious relationship.”

It was her honest answer, and she surprised herself at how she delivered it with the perfect balance of understanding and objectivity. Her friends seemed to agree, as they stopped prodding her.

“Such a guy thing to do, quickly move on to another girl,” Ann commented with a sigh. 

Haru shook her head, placing her cappuccino cup on a saucer. “I agree. At least give it a year after a divorce.”

Makoto nodded, hoping her eyes and slackening shoulders weren’t giving her relief away. _So it’s not just me_.

Was it wrong for her to doubt Ren? Knowing the full story of his past relationship, it did sound like he just had a divorce. She felt for him, but he had some healing to do—more than he let on. Could they be in a lasting relationship if they both had baggage to deal with? Or would that just be their undoing?

That he started sleeping with other women a mere six months after his ten-year relationship also irked her. That meant that it only took him six months to forget about his ex with whom he shared a decade of his life.

When she did the math, if she and Ren hypothetically lasted only a year, he’d get over her in about eighteen days. _He’d break the record of my last ex,_ she thought bitterly.

She also didn’t think to ask him what he meant by how she friendzoned him _twice_. Did that mean—

“Anyway,” Ann said, twirling a curl. “Sorry, we got off track there. So you were saying you like this guy but are having doubts about him?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“Do you feel a connection with him?” Haru asked. 

A connection? Considering last night, that was putting it mildly.

“Well...yes.”

“Maybe just go into this not expecting much. Otherwise, you’ll end up disappointing yourself again,” Haru advised. 

Makoto looked down at her coffee, trying to process the bitter truth: she didn't know how to approach relationships—even new friendships—without high expectations. Serious and unrelenting—that was her problem.

“I guess.”

Ann frowned at her. “Don’t worry yourself too much. It’s always a gamble, and maybe you’ll win this time. But if not, don’t beat yourself up.”

Those words eased the tension in her gut somewhat. “Thanks, Ann,” she said with a small smile. 

That went well. Too bad she couldn’t say the same about her impending talk with Ren. 

After Haru thanked one of her wait staff for the scones delivered to their table, she fixed her gaze on Ann.

“So, Ann, tell us about Ryuji,” she said sweetly.

Makoto couldn’t hold back a giggle as Ann choked on her latte.

***

It was close to eight in the evening when Makoto made it home. She timed it so that it was too early for Ren to be back, and enough time for her to shower, get ready for tomorrow, then lock herself in her room to pretend she was asleep when he returned.

She opened her front door and turned on the kitchen light only to find him sitting at their preferred place of contention: her dining table.

There went her plans to go unnoticed. 

Dressed in his pajamas, with his hair barely dried, he typed away on his laptop as if nothing happened, sitting in the same chair he’d scooted back when he snapped at her. Everything looked calm and composed about him, yet she couldn’t ignore the cold indifference emanating beneath his indecipherable mask. 

He didn’t so much as greet her nor acknowledge she was in the room. 

She gritted her teeth. _Rude._

How he could coolly focus on his work as if they didn’t have a big fight riled something ugly in her. If it were her, she’d be slamming the keyboard as she typed. 

But disagreement wasn’t new to them. When they were Phantom Thieves, bonded by life and death situations, they often butted heads over what was the next correct course of action. There were times when they wouldn’t speak to each other, inadvertently annoying their teammates. 

Their worst fight was when she’d unintentionally turned the team against him and Morgana when they neglected to tell them about Sumire’s powers and the new palace they’d discovered. She took that withholding of information personally, thinking they were partners, and because of that mutual trust, she’d be one of the first to know. 

Why that memory came up perplexed her; that was a long time ago. It was unimportant. 

The point was, through it all, she and Ren reconciled and remained good friends. She believed they could resolve this dispute.

She carefully placed the boxes of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts and bags of Kona coffee grinds Haru got for her and Ren on the table. She dared to slip into the seat next to him. He didn’t bother facing her, clearly ignoring her. 

_He started the argument_ , Makoto thought with distaste. But between the two of them, she was more at fault. 

Makoto swallowed, holding her arms close across her midsection. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Ren. I think we should talk.”

“About?” he said in a clipped tone. 

“About...us.”

“There is no _us_ , Makoto.”

Makoto pressed on, despite the sting in his words.

“There is. The us who keeps spending time together.” She winced. “And nights together. The us who...has feelings for each other.”

He stopped typing at that. He blew out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes. 

“What are you trying to say,” he groaned.

She wavered, bracing herself as she was about to lose face in front of him, again. _Why is apologizing so hard?_

“I’m trying to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I unintentionally hurt you by saying we should be friends. It’s just, I thought that’s what we both wanted. I didn’t mean for you to feel unwanted and crappy about yourself.”

He stayed quiet as if he were considering her words. He had his guard up, his features remaining still in that placid mask. 

“But I’m not sorry for saying you should’ve been honest with me from the beginning.” 

Still no answer.

She leaned in to look at him, despite him steadfastly facing forward. “Ren, tell me. When you said I’d friendzoned you twice, does that mean the first time—”

He shut his laptop and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t want to talk about that, Mako. Please.”

The tremble beneath his words startled her.

She wanted to press further, but they were on unsteady ground. Touching upon what was a sensitive matter for him could trigger a full-blown fight again. She’d have to ask another time when he felt safe to say so. 

A heavy beat weighed them down; letting go of her ego was the only way out at this point. 

“I’m sorry I got mad. It’s just—I’ve been lied to before and—” she swallowed, not expecting her voice to crack. “I just always appreciated the transparency we had with each other.”

He gave a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, I’m sorry. I acted like a total dick earlier. I should’ve told you how I really felt. I just got scared and frustrated. You’re not a waste of time at all.” He swallowed, his voice low. “I just needed to know...so I could figure out how I’m going to get over you.”

Makoto felt her jaw drop; she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “When...did you get under me?” she managed to say, holding her breath.

He held up a hand as he casually explained. “Well, it was at Haru’s wedding, and we ended up in your room after the afterparty, and you went on top of—”

She instantly reddened, pressing her knees together. “I didn’t mean it that way!”

The light danced in his eyes, then softened. The playful, forgiving Ren was back.

She felt him shift uncomfortably in his seat, his features slightly tightening under the warm light coming from the kitchen. “I asked you a question earlier,” he said quietly, looking to the side. 

Makoto nodded knowingly.

“Am I the only one who wants to be more than friends?” he asked gently this time, finally turning to look at her. 

He waited patiently for her response.

She wasn’t sure if this was going to work out. If things didn’t, which was highly probable, she’d lose his friendship for sure. Their friendship would never be the same. If he ever hurt and left her, there was no way she could be friends with him again. 

She wouldn’t be able to handle the pain if Ren rejected her again. 

There was a chance her gut feeling read this all wrong; she didn’t know if what her gut told her was right anymore. 

Yet he was sincere. 

Ann was right; they were already ‘playing house’ and living like a committed couple as much as she tried to reason against it. He made her breakfast, did his share of the housekeeping, and helped her take care of her niece. 

He knew and accepted her awkwardness and flaws (even if it was in the form of teasing her). 

He made time for her and treated her with respect. He shared her passion for social reform and understood how much her career meant to her. 

She felt safe being vulnerable with him, physically and emotionally. 

They made a great team. 

She could see herself being married to someone like him if such a crazy thing were ever to happen.

Maybe they could be more than friends, even if it might be temporary. Because there was no way they could keep their hands to themselves in the next few days, not after last night. 

Maybe they could work something out as a team, just like they always did. Whether that meant just only sex, or commitment, or something in between—they could figure it out. Together. 

He was healing and willing to give them—whatever they’d be—a try. 

And if she were honest with herself, she’d only be willing to try something if it was only with him. 

“No,” she said quietly.

She felt him start with a jolt. There was a pause. 

“No, you’re not the only one,” she finished. 

He let out a breath. “Did you have to put it _that_ way?”

“I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to not be the brunt of your jokes.” 

He smirked. “For the record, you _were_ quite thirsty last night,” he nudged. 

She bumped his shoulder back. “You started it.”

The sound of his light chuckle unburdened her. He leaned in to wrap an arm around her, nuzzling her hair before planting a chaste kiss on her head as a conciliatory gesture. 

“Shall we...go to my room?” Makoto asked, taking his warm hand that rested on his thigh. “Since we both have work tomorrow, we should probably head to bed early.” She averted his gaze, the sudden heat on her face a sign she was half-surprised at her bold suggestion. 

Ren’s lips parted at that. A flash of want flickered in his eyes when she dared to look up at him. 

He was quick on the uptake.

They barely made it through her bedroom door when his mouth was immediately on hers. His fingers loosened her half-ponytail while his other hand slid around her waist, his mouth hungry on hers as he pressed her closer. 

Then, without warning, he released her. Her arms, her back, her entire body shivered in the absence of his heat. 

“Wait. Are you sure about this?” he asked in a whisper. His deep grey eyes burned with vulnerability as he gently gripped her shoulders. As if he were afraid she’d reject him.

Makoto took a step towards him and placed her hands over his. She ran her thumbs over his knuckles, not daring to break eye contact. 

She gave a small nod. 

He breathed and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers. He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. 

Her mouth tried to form some reassuring words, but before she could, his mouth was on hers again. The taste of his lips and the smell of his subtle cologne and sweat were familiar and felt so right, and she found herself melting into his embrace. 

By the time they fumbled onto her bed, they were a mix of clumsily entwined limbs, whispering directions and suggestions to each other to figure out how they should move together next. Heat continued to stir deep within her as his hands enveloped her, touching and exploring every curve of her body.

His mouth slid lower and lower down her abdomen, tugging soft sighs from her throat. With his head nestled in between her thighs, he smirked up at her, before pressing a kiss in that spot where she ached. 

Her fingers bunched in his hair as he unraveled her for a second time, a third time. As she came down with soft moans of relief, she remembered how this was like the first night they were together, except better. A giggle bubbled out of her. Not too long ago, they were arguing about being friends and having feelings, and here she was now, a feverish mess splayed before him. 

“I don’t recall saying anything funny,” he murmured in between kisses to her inner thigh. “Unless you’re acting coy about how good I am.” Even in sex, it seemed he spared no opportunity to try to charm her.

“Since you’re showing off,” she said with closed eyes and in a breathy voice, “are you saying that was the best you could do?” Her lips curled into a satisfied smile.

In an instant, her eyes opened wide; she felt the air gently squeeze out of her as his firm body slid over her. 

“Wrong move, Mako,” he purred, playing along with this wicked game they were in. 

Through half-lidded eyes, he mirrored the sly smile she was giving him. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his soft hair in a heady beat. He pushed up on an elbow to watch her with dark eyes as his palm stroked her hip and up to her waist and over her breasts and back down again. She could tell he was enjoying this, seeing her naked and hearing her breath hitch at his touch.

“Can I?” he asked, running a teasing hand to brush between her legs. 

The heat in her belly roiled in anticipation. “Yes. Do you want to?” she said in a breathless voice. 

“You’re just full of funny questions tonight, are you?” he spoke with a wry smile. 

He afforded her a nice view as he stood to tear open the condom wrapper. She rolled her eyes at him as he regarded her with a smug look; he knew she was trying to hide that she was staring at him, and he was enjoying the attention.

 _What a show-off._

A warm, soft light shone in his eyes as he climbed over her to press a series of light kisses on her lips. “To answer your question, yes, I want to. So, so badly. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he whispered. He squeezed her backside before caressing her thigh to press it against his hip.

A tingling shudder ran through her at his words. 

Makoto would never admit to his already inflated ego that he was the best sexual partner she's had. But also because, she thought with a pinch in her throat, there was a chance he probably wouldn’t say the same about her. His tender rocking into her pulled her out of her worries, and her mind went blank as she surrendered herself to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers: thank you for continuing to follow along with this story with all its ups and downs (especially its downs). You're the best.

Although Ren now had his own place, he and Makoto settled that he’d spend only three nights out of the week at her apartment (Ren pushed—but failed—for four nights). For one, Makoto argued, he already signed a rental agreement for that tiny studio; two: they didn’t want to forget about Morgana, and three: they both needed time to be their own person and a break from the constant...activity that a new relationship entailed for the sake of Morgana and getting to work on time.

But this week, Makoto made an exception for a fourth night because she had a draining shift after the all-nighter spent in the station a night before. If wanting to find respite in her boyfriend’s arms (that label associated with _Ren_ still sounded foreign on her tongue) made her a sap, so be it. 

The problem was she didn’t sleep as early as planned, for his hands and mouth kept her up all night. And they had to hustle to the train in twelve minutes. 

“I booked us a trip this weekend,” Ren said, fastening his watch. 

“What? Where?”

“Hakone. You and me in our private _onsen_.”

She paused at tying her hair. “Private _onsen_? You shelled out seventy-thousand yen for one night? We’ll have to split the cost.”

“You know I’m not going to accept any of your money. It’s my treat for our four months together.” He gave a small smile at her. Warmth spread in her chest at that; she struggled to make eye contact with him in the mirror. 

“Besides,” Ren continued, “we both need a break from work and the humidity in the city’s getting to me. Again.”

Makoto giggled. “My skin could use a nice cleanse.”

“I love your skin. Especially when it’s on mine,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. 

She recalled how she still ached down there but decided not to act on her thoughts as she glanced at her alarm clock over his shoulder.

“We’re already dressed for work.”

He drew her in between his legs from where he sat at the edge of her mattress. She couldn’t help but run her fingers through his hair in a preening gesture, careful not to undo his already styled part as he cupped her bottom. 

“I know,” he said, as she let him unzip and slide her pants down. He tugged on the back of her naked thighs, beckoning her to bend her knees around him. She knew it drove him mad when she straddled him and kneaded his scalp. 

“You’re bad,” she whispered with a smile, unable to resist planting light kisses on his velvety lips as he worked on the buttons of her blouse. It felt more humid in the room because of typhoon season, and he was doing her a favor, she reasoned.

“And you love it,” he teased, unhooking her bra.

She did. Her arms and legs clutched at the sensation of his hands and mouth roaming over her curves again. Amamiya Ren’s primary love language was definitely touching. 

With an arch of her back, she moved and silently begged him to touch her _there_. 

With a playful curl of his lips, he obliged her. In a rapid motion, he rolled on top of her, pressing her there until she fell apart again. Settling on his knees in between hers, he fumbled at the buttons of his business shirt and loosened his pants in one fell swoop as Makoto’s attempts were too slow and languid. 

“Seven minutes should be enough time,” he said in a satiny murmur by her ear, offering her an excellent view by pulling his undershirt over his head. He tossed it on the pile of their clothing, plopped over the eyes of her Buchi-kun body pillow. 

She wordlessly raised her hips to let him slip her panty down, feeling goosebumps form on her thighs as the lace grazed her skin. He always took his time with this. _I like to unwrap my gifts,_ he joked one time. 

He groaned as she raised her knees to his sides, taking in her body and searching her face with a half-lidded gaze. 

_Work will always be there_ , she thought, grabbing on to his hardened back as he started moving. 

***

The weekend finally arrived, with another grueling week now behind them. They reported to their offices on time, although on two mornings, both after when he slept over, Makoto hit the snooze button one time too many and had to rush and take a taxi.

As if it were the most natural thing to do, Ren took her hand in his and wove their fingers together as they walked into the _ryokan_ lobby. She applauded herself for applying that medium coverage BB cream as it adequately masked the red surfacing over her cheeks. She wasn’t the only woman at the front desk who noticed how handsome and affectionate a boyfriend she had. 

He didn’t let go of her hand until they reached and toured their bright, expansive suite fit for a large group or a family than a couple. Much to her embarrassment, Ren insisted on taking a solo shot of her in her light green _yukata_ against the backdrop of the shoji screens and private garden outside of their room. _I like to capture lovely views_ , he said with a smirk. 

They decided to indulge in a pre-dinner soak at once to make the most out of this fleeting getaway, and not to mention Ren’s seventy-thousand yen. 

“This is paradise,” Ren exhaled. 

“Mmm,” she managed to say.

“This makes all the toiling worth it.”

“It does.” 

The mental exhaustion from the harrowing case that plagued her this past month melted away with each minute she basked in the steaming waters. The silky hot spring lavished her skin in comfort. For once, she closed her eyes and let go of her job worries back home. She focused on enjoying every moment of this getaway: breathing in the steam from their private open-air bath, hearing the sound of rain pattering on the gardens outside, and feeling the warm press of Ren’s body embracing hers from behind. 

A contented silence befell them. Ren only sighed in what she understood as relief as she relaxed onto his chest and leaned her head against his cheek. The steady rise and fall of his chest lulled her into a languor. In the background, she heard one of their phones vibrate from text notifications, but she couldn’t care less. 

The murmur of his voice rumbled on her back. “I can’t believe we’ve been together for four months, and this is the first time we’ve gone on a trip.” 

She hummed. “I know. This was such a good idea.”

Ren only angled his head in response to trail the side of her neck with light, tender kisses, taking his time. His grip loosened at her waist to slide his palms over her breasts.

Makoto opened her eyes, tensing inside. What was _four months_ of being in an _exclusive relationship_ _with Amamiya Ren_ already felt like a year: they sort of lived together, he planned on introducing her to his parents on their way back to Tokyo tomorrow, and she even found herself perusing a bridal magazine one time at a _konbini_. Whirlwind romances were all she knew, but she never thought she’d have one with Ren. 

(She never thought she’d be in a serious relationship with him _at all_. The wave of feels that hit her would leave her high school self incapacitated.)

Despite the time they’d already shared, she wasn’t entirely used to receiving his affections and being the reason he was happy. 

_That role was usually for other girls_ , her inner critic observed.

The blind faith that he was perfect and could do no wrong, the euphoric rush of constant lovemaking, the feeling that the infatuation and the daydreaming would last forever—she knew this version of ‘love’ was temporary. 

How would she know he won’t lose interest in her once the honeymoon phase was over? Or when all the restaurant meals and takeout they’d been recently eating caught up to her waistline?

“You’re overthinking again,” she heard Ren remark from behind.

“Huh?”

“Something’s bothering you. Think out loud with me.”

He probably felt her wince as she debated over what to say next. She wanted to be honest, but she worried voicing her unpleasant thoughts would sour future intimate moments with him on this trip.

He cut into her thoughts. “I know you’re probably nervous about meeting my parents. Trust me, I’m not looking forward to seeing them either. At least we only have to show face for an hour and then leave.” 

She didn’t deny that; she’d be under the harsh spotlight as his parents regarded her with nothing but judgment: criticizing her looks, her hairstyle, her body, the clothes she wore. They’d frown upon her ambitions in a field that befitted men. This was also her first time hitting the ‘Meeting the Parents’ milestone. She heard horror stories from Eiko—

“If anything, they’ll just be shocked I landed a woman who’s obviously out of my league,” Ren said, his voice evident that a smile curved his lips.

The kind inner voice in Makoto wanted to take the compliment, but she couldn’t help but ask: 

“You could get any girl you want. Why did you pick me?”

“You could get any guy you want. Why did you pick me?” he quietly countered.

“I’m serious, Ren.”

“So am I.”

Her face scrunched up, more so from doubt than embarrassment at another compliment.

Ren sighed. “There you go again.”

And there it was. The honeymoon stage was officially over.

She sat up, turning around to face him. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know; how about always assuming the worst of me?” He wiped away a sheen of sweat from his forehead, sweeping his usually obscuring locks.

Makoto clamped down her jaw. 

Water lapped and spilled over the edge of the bath as she glided to sit on the smooth ledge diagonal to him, hugging herself. She shuddered at the fresh air brushing the part of her back no longer submerged in the hot water. “It’s just—don’t you think we’re going too fast? Don’t you think you’re going too fast?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I get there’s no ‘exact time’ to get over someone, but six—well, nine—months was a little too soon, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with that at Haru’s wedding.”

“That’s not the point I’m getting at.”

“Then what is your point?”

She paused, letting her muscles relax. She spoke in a softer voice. “You're still beating yourself up over what happened, aren't you? You haven’t forgiven yourself.” 

A heavy beat overwhelmed them. He propped up his elbow, looking pensive and debonair, the ends of his hair dripping water onto his shoulders.

Then he spoke. The sound of his voice was steady, though his jaw set in disapproval. “And you think I didn’t notice when I first said ‘I love you’ when we were making love, that you didn’t say it back? Or how you first assumed I just wanted us to be friends with benefits? Or how hesitant you seem when I bring up the future?” 

To her defense, her inner critic voiced, all the guys she slept with—including him—declared they loved her when they were about to climax, and she doubted they had any higher cognitive functions at that point. Secondly, ‘more than friends’ is a nuanced term and could easily mean ‘friends with benefits’; and thirdly, she wasn’t hesitant, she was surprised because usually, _she_ was the one who brought up talks about the future first. That was most of the truth.

“You really think that I don’t know you’re trying to change the subject?” Makoto noted.

Ren leaned his head back against the bamboo wall and sighed. “I have no idea why we’re arguing,” he said in a resigned tone. “Can we just head to dinner first?”

Makoto sighed in return, wordlessly agreeing with the temporary truce. She climbed out of the bath that was suddenly too hot; the warm air was no longer purifying but suffocating. 

***

Ren took a deep, satisfied breath. 

Then another. And another.

Niijima Makoto was nestled in his arms as they snuggled on the floor atop their conjoined futons, both of their yukatas heaped in an untidy pile on the tatami mats. A contented warmth washed over him at the feel of her smooth naked body wrapped around his, and how his palm fit just right in the curve of her soft lower back. With his other hand, he lazily raked his fingers down her arms—he knew she loved that. 

They reconciled for the most part after the _kaiseki_ dinner, both in slightly better moods after savoring the haute cuisine tastes. Makoto seemed to have put her qualms aside in the meantime as she raved over the attention and care each dish displayed as if she were a food blogger live streaming. He couldn’t hide a smirk as he watched her snap photos of each culinary piece of art, wondering out loud how the chef prepared each ingredient and in what order.

The rain let up that morning as he breathed in the cooler air, smelling damp rocks and mineral. Only the whir of birdcalls and the slap of geta sandals on the stone walkways from the staff making their morning preparations were all he could hear from outside. 

He pulled back from underneath her to peer at her sleeping face, biting back a chuckle upon hearing a tiny snore. He traced his lips to the cute mole on her collarbone before grazing a finger across her wispy bangs, thinking about the words they’d exchanged yesterday afternoon. Somehow, they only reminded him of what she told him that day they got stuck on that Ferris Wheel at Destinyland.

_You’re not her Savior._

_I hope one day, you can forgive yourself._

_I want to support you, even when you’re hurting._

(The third she’d said long ago in high school when she pulled him aside to the Student Council room to give him a bag of _giri choco_ ; but instead, it was an endearing lecture about his decision to turn himself in.) 

Wait, why did that thought come up? 

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. Only one person would be texting him this early on a Sunday morning, and she was here dozing beside him. Without thinking, he swiped his phone open, not bothering to check the name on the lock screen.

> Sumire: Good morning.
> 
> Sumire: I hope we can talk soon. 
> 
> _Read at 06:27_

He hoped Makoto didn’t sense how he stiffened at what was becoming daily text messages from his ex-girlfriend. The side of him who wanted to be everything for everybody urged him to send a reply, but he placed his phone beside his pillow and turned back to Makoto. The comforter shuffled as she shifted her body away to face the other side. 

He scooted closer to her, holding her from behind. He buried his face in her neck, and though the feeling of her warm skin soothed his eyes, he lay awake.

***

“Too bad it was so foggy we couldn’t see Mt. Fuji,” Makoto observed, leaning against Ren’s shoulder. The bullet train shimmied at high speed, the world outside a blur. 

“This is still a very nice photo of you.” He zoomed in on a photo of her in front of the Hakone shrine’s _torii_ gate, her cropped jeans and white bow-tie blouse a little too stuffy for the thick air. She did like her outfit despite being one to choose comfort over style. 

“Delete it. You caught me when I was talking mid-sentence.”

“Well, _I_ like it, so that’s not happening.” He playfully batted her snatching hands away, barricading her from the phone. She pouted in defeat.

He pocketed his phone and threaded his fingers through hers. “My parents like you, by the way,” he remarked after a beat. 

“They were polite. I don’t know if that equates to liking me.”

“They do. They like you more than me, that’s for sure.” 

She leaned forward to face him the moment he turned away and moved in his seat.

“Ren.” 

“As they should. You’re far easier on the eyes,” he continued, unruffled.

She studied their linked hands. “I think they feel guilty and ashamed of what they did but are too prideful to admit it.”

“Though I’m not so bad, wouldn’t you agree?”

Makoto rolled her eyes. “Of course I agree you’re hot, but you’re avoiding the topic at hand.” 

“So you think I’m hot.”

Peeved, she angled her knees towards the window and focused her attention on the dizzying countryside. Although all she thought would go wrong when meeting Ren’s parents didn’t occur, their unresolved argument and the words she wanted to say sat like an itch in her throat. 

“Hey. I’m okay.” He squeezed her hand. “I know what you mean. One of the benefits of growing up is that I care less about their approval,” he said onto her shoulder.

She turned, their faces almost touching. “But it’s okay and normal to want it. Why else would you want to introduce me to them?”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“Yes, like how I’m right about this. How I’m right all the time,” she said with a wink.

“Someone’s learning how to be smooth. Copycat,” he whispered into her ear before nibbling on her neck. A coquettish giggle spouted out of her as she shrunk away. She’d only act this foolish when with him. Usually, he’d only save intimate gestures behind closed doors, but the rows around them were empty, and nobody was there to—

The sound of someone clearing their throat beside Ren caught her attention. Makoto backed away, leaving a confused Ren who realized a second too late they were not alone.

The man’s grim expression offset their bug-eyed ones.

“You’re in my seat,” he gruffed, pointing to the row behind them. 

In unison, they both glanced back and forth at the tickets Ren pulled out from his pocket and the seat numbers overhead. 

Seats 2A and 2B were not on their printed tickets, but rather 3A and 3B. Grumpy middle-aged man was right. 

“Excuse us,” Ren bowed, gathering his and Makoto’s bags. 

They sidestepped to the row behind the angry uncle. 

“He was pretty rude,” Makoto remarked in a low voice.

“Tell me about it. He ruined a perfect moment.”

Before she felt it was safe to probe into what he thought about his parents and other topics he’d evaded, the weight of his head pressed on her shoulder as he slumbered away for the rest of the ride. 

***

A shower later (that Ren complained was too hot, but Makoto encouraged him to pretend it was an onsen), they were finally relaxed, lazing about on her couch. A sentimental love confession from a drama she’d heard Ann mention once played out on the television. Makoto curled onto his lap, preferring to lay her head on her hands than the ruffled nylon of his basketball shorts. 

Thanks to the fog, the nerves behind meeting his parents, and the increasing frequency of their (still unresolved) arguments, Makoto surmised she didn’t have much of a relaxing weekend, save for the fleeting intimate moments during their one-night ryokan stay.

His soothing palm stopped grazing her back. “Now that we’re back home, should we talk about the elephants in the room?” he asked.

Makoto sat up at that, her stomach churning at what he insinuated. 

“And I thought I was the indelicate one here.”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” he commented with a smile, though it didn’t meet his eyes.

She turned off the television, her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t want to start a fight. I just feel like we need to clear some things.”

“Who said anything about fighting? I only mentioned talking about elephants.” He blinked, but Makoto knew better than to take his mild puzzlement at face value. 

She crossed her arms. If he wanted to act passive-aggressive, then so be it. “Then what elephant should we start with first?”

“Hmm, how about your relationship anxiety.”

A jolt rattled through her. “What?” 

He was really asking for a fight. 

“You know, relationship anxiety. How you doubt this relationship and have one foot out the door,” he observed.

She winced; as much as she wanted to deny it, he was right. He went right for the kill, without pretense. 

“Can you blame me? How would you feel if I married and became pregnant a mere three months after I ended our year-long relationship? Or giving your all into a relationship, only to find out you’re a side fling?” she countered.

“I’d feel like shit.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

He sat up, mirroring her. “But it also makes me feel like shit when you’re comparing me to the assholes that are your ex-boyfriends.”

“I’m not comparing you. You’re different from them,” she said in a soft-spoken voice. His shoulders relaxed at that.

“It’s just—all of this feels too good to be true.”

“And there it is,” he shook his head. “The pessimism, the doubt.”

Something in her twisted at his catty snark. 

She stood up at a distance. “Oh? And how about this elephant: you pretending like you’re okay and not opening up to your own girlfriend?” she challenged.

“Of course you won’t let that go,” he muttered, standing up as if it inconvenienced him. His speech grew snappy with each word. “Since you’re so insistent on knowing, yes, that first night together—if you’d said you wanted to be more than friends, I would have asked you to be my girlfriend in a heartbeat. There, I said it. Happy now?” 

“Yeah, a rebound girlfriend,” she bit back. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty. You just broke up with your ex, and we hadn’t talked in years. I just would’ve been your way out.”

“Then how convenient I wanted and got a rebound hookup with someone I had feelings for.” 

That stung. It all made sense, why he’d been evasive about that night; romantic feelings involved or no, he intended to use her as a rebound. 

Her stance widened as she pinned him with a burning gaze. “Number one on your Rebound List, what an honor. I was right to friendzone you then, considering I was just some springboard for you to jump back into your relationship a week later,” she spat.

The dust settled between them. Her blood surged at his mirthless smile as if this were a game to him, and he was bluffing he had an ace up his sleeve. 

“Are you satisfied you found more reasons to feed your anxiety?” he taunted in a low, icy voice.

She released a bitter laugh, stepping close to meet his eyes. “You know what? At least I admit I have issues instead of hiding behind some damn mask pretending I don’t have any. I let others in.”

He scoffed. 

“Just not too close, right? Better to hold back than let someone in completely? Because when they get to know all of you, they _still_ betray you?” he sneered. 

And there it was. 

He played his ace. 

Makoto stilled. She couldn't breathe. All of the affection, attraction— _love—_ she felt for Ren these past months were suddenly emotions she couldn’t recall at the moment. 

She backed away, holding herself as if to protect her already shattered ego.

“Makoto.” 

She wouldn’t answer him, _couldn’t_ answer him. She hated the hot moisture building in her eyes, a display of her failure to keep herself together. 

He _knew_ that was her weak point; he knew she had those wounds—and yet—

“Makoto, wait. Shit, I didn’t mean that,” he started forward, his arm outstretched in midair.

She took another step back. “I think you did,” she said in a strained voice. Her beating heart drowned out the words he said after as she stomped to her bedroom and slammed the door.

She fell onto her bed and screamed into her Buchi-kun pillow. Harsh tears stained her face.

Ren could be such a stubborn, inconsiderate jerk when he wanted to. 

Three small knocks echoed in the hallway. “I’m sorry. Please, Mako. Open the door.” The sincere remorse in his tone almost spurred her to open the door and yank him in, yet she snapped in a loud voice:

“Go away.”

He didn’t move.

“Just go away—seriously.”

She didn’t open her eyes until he sighed and shuffled away from her closed door. 

A minute or two later, the front door clicked shut. 

***

The next evening, Ren caved in. He called Makoto twice and left two voicemails. 

After debating with himself for thirty minutes whether to text her or not, he finally sent her two: 

> Ren: Can we talk?
> 
> Ren: Please.
> 
> _Sent at 21:14_

He had to get out of the apartment, to clear his mind _,_ he told himself. Still, the truth was, he needed to leave to prevent himself from obsessively staring at their message thread for the next hours waiting for her ‘read’ receipt to appear (as he had done many times before when their arguments went past the line of playful to a little too personal).

This one was the most personal yet, and he had no one to blame but himself. She had said some irritating words (they argued about stupid elephants, for crying out loud) but he—

He went too far, had cut too deep. 

He knew it the second he said those hurtful words.

_Because when they get to know all of you, they still betray you._

He needed to get out of his head. 

He hadn’t lifted weights regularly in the months he and Makoto “de-stressed” in their shared way. He hated how weak he felt struggling during pull-ups, asking himself multiple times why he decided to torture himself. Yet the burn felt gratifying. 

He made it back to the apartment feeling beat up, though his back muscles felt somewhat revived. He picked up his phone that he purposefully left behind at his multi-purpose desk, holding his breath as he opened their conversation thread.

> Ren: Can we talk?
> 
> Ren: Please.
> 
> _Read at 22:05_

She read his message thirty minutes before he arrived home. Therefore, a shower, finishing the leftover _gyudon_ she made for him last Friday, and checking his island on Animal Crossing should be enough time for her to type back a response. 

He plopped face-down onto his bed as soon as he reached the loft. _I’ll take one last look, and that’s it, I’ll go to sleep_.

His shoulders tensed as he scrolled through their conversation one last time. 

She didn’t text him back that night. 

At that moment, the reason why he’d been so frustrated with Makoto and why he attacked her weaknesses struck him:

He meant that hurt for himself. All of it. He just took it out on her. 

And slowly, a tiny crack formed on the wall he’d erected in his mind to keep certain emotions at bay. 

***

The following days did not fare well for Ren. 

He arrived late to work that morning, subsequently sneaking in ten minutes late to two committee hearings garnering looks from his superiors. His only meal that day was a cold onigiri that he inhaled before rushing into another crowded train that afternoon.

The only things he did right today were bringing an umbrella and not snapping at the already drunk salaryman on the train blabbering on his cell phone and continuously knocking his briefcase onto Ren’s shin. 

Why he overcommitted himself at work and failed to accomplish last-minute tasks with his usual finesse begged another question.

Yet his building headache and thinning patience diminished upon inhaling the bright scent of espresso and relief sweeping his skin the moment he stepped into the air-conditioned cafe.

He eventually responded to Sumire’s texts asking for a meetup. He went along with her proposal to meet at one of the less popular coffeehouse chains they’d often frequent when they were together. There were few patrons despite it being rush hour, probably because of its overlooked location, tucked away in a side street. 

Sumire saved the corner table for them. A couple of tables away sat that one person who took up the big table for himself and that one couple who looked like they were there for the breakup talk. 

She looked mostly unchanged since he last saw her at Haru’s wedding, as she stood up to bow to him when he arrived. She shared that she was consistently seeing a therapist again and didn’t expand on that. She also updated him in her usual timid manner that her relationship with that other gymnastics coach Ren had met once was going well. 

An inkling of jealousy crept up within him as it did when she first told him about her new boyfriend at Haru’s wedding, but he brushed it off when he reminded himself that these were normal feelings to protect his ego. Even he wasn’t immune to the damaged pride one felt when an ex-partner found someone else first. He’d grown so used to the script of being the boyfriend for ten whole years. 

Old automatic thought patterns, even after a year and a month, died hard.

She readjusted her glasses. He could tell by the way she tensed and blushed that she wavered over on an uncomfortable subject. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked in a modest voice.

“I am. It’s going well.” 

Well, not at the moment since he and Makoto had their worst fight yet and have been mad at each other for the past five days, and he didn’t know what to do to make things right, but that was no one’s business at all, especially hers. 

“Oh! That’s good to hear. Where did you meet her?”

“We met back at school,” he said in a tone that said he just wanted to leave it at that.

She seemed like she handled the news—and what probably was a twinge of jealousy on her end—well, but Ren was wary.

“So what did you want to talk about?” he asked in a calm voice.

Ren saw her shoulders sag as she fiddled with the napkin in her hands. 

“Um...i-it’s about my parents. They wanted me to tell you that they, um, forgive you,” she said in a mousy voice. 

The implication that Sumire’s relapse was _still_ his fault stoked feelings of resentment he’d stored away. 

Ren controlled his features and tone. “I see. Tell them, thank you.” 

“I will. And um…” she trailed off.

He didn’t say anything as he let her sort out her thoughts.

“Th-This is really hard for me to say, but...I-I want to apologize for, um, being so weak and relying on you so much.” 

He’d heard those words before. It was from when they were happy—when he was happy—and in response, he would do nothing more but pull her petite frame into a hug and tell her to stop apologizing and being hard on herself. 

“Don’t be sorry, Sumire. Stop being hard on yourself,” he said, the gentle words spilling out of him almost like a reflex.

She gave a little start as if recognizing this familiar exchange too, then shined a warm smile. “Th-Thank you, Ren-kun. In my eyes, you’ll always be a guiding light and inspiration to me. You’ll always be my hero,” she said with a small bow of her head.

A familiar warmth bloomed in his chest, hearing that. There was a time when he found her sweetness and helplessness cute and attractive. Despite everything that happened between them, he’d always think fondly of her enthusiastic devotion and adoration for him, and how needed and valued it made him feel.

“I’m glad I can be of help,” he bowed back as he gave her a polite smile.

Ren held the door open for her as they walked out of the coffeehouse. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as they lingered outside as if she too were pondering what to say, as the air surrounding them pressurized.

What started as a drizzle flashed into a blur of torrential rain in a matter of seconds. They dashed under a nearby awning of a closed izakaya next door as puddles spawned around them. There was a beat as Ren poked his head out to calculate how long he’d have to run in the rain to reach the station. He glanced at Sumire, who was dabbing at her mildly wet hair.

Ironically, he recalled how a similar situation happened in front of Leblanc the day she confessed she was in love with him, and he told her he felt the same way. Except then, it was snowing, and they had just experienced their first kiss leaning over the counter at the innocent and naive ages of fifteen and sixteen. He wondered then if what he felt was love.

Ren shifted the weight of his feet, puzzled why his delirious mind would recall that memory.

“Here, you can take the umbrella,” he offered.

“A-Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Take it.”

She bowed her head slightly, looking down with a shy expression and heated cheeks, though there was a doleful look in her eyes. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing, about how they’d always huddle under his umbrella. 

“Thank you.” 

Ren nodded. “I’m going to head out now. Take care, Sumire.”

“You too, Ren-kun.”

He turned to leave, but her voice, laced with a quivering plea underneath, stopped him. “W-wait, Ren-kun!”

She hesitated, seeing that she had his full attention, her watery eyes appearing like a silent cry. 

“I-I forgive you...and I love you,” she said in a wistful tone. 

There was a snap and splashing sound as the umbrella tumbled out into a giant puddle that flooded the empty street before them.

Like she always did before, she gave a little jump to wrap her lithe arms around his neck and placed her lips on his.

***

After four days of monosyllabic texts and leaving each other on read, Makoto spotted Ren near the intersection behind the station, leaning against the ledge wall bordering the planted shrubberies, scrolling through his phone. 

She pretended not to see him, picking up her pace and ignoring the discomfort of her tired feet after a long day, but that didn’t stop him from catching up with her.

“So how long do you plan on ignoring me?” he said, striding beside her.

Not wanting to be that person who abruptly stopped amid pedestrian traffic on Friday rush hour, she turned into a clearing on the other side of the bushes, facing him. A part of her stirred at the sight of him and his nearby presence, but she held herself back when she remembered why they were fighting. “Why? Has my absence been that heart-wrenching for you?” she said, crossing her arms. 

A thin line formed on his lips. “You’re going to have to try harder if you think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

She shot him a look with narrowed eyes before turning to walk away, shoving down the part of her that enjoyed their banter and his smugness. 

“It’s today, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. 

She stopped, frozen. 

Ren cleared his throat. “Are you on your way to visit him? Can I at least walk you there?”

_How did he remember?_

“I already went on my lunch break,” she spoke over her shoulder, her voice quiet and weary.

“Then, can I at least walk you home?”

She gripped the strap of her bag, still with her back to him. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate the thought. But it’s not necessary.” 

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” he asked, taking a small step towards her.

“You’re trying to comfort me.”

“Is that not allowed?”

She finally turned around. He was closer than she thought he was, taking her in as if waiting to see what she would do next. “It is, but I can handle it on my own.”

He didn’t say anything to that, staying quiet long enough that she looked up to scan his face. It wasn’t the dullness of pity in his eyes, but something else. “Listen, if we’re going to argue, let’s at least do it somewhere with fresh air and away from these crowded streets,” he said, brushing a finger against her hand. 

Makoto still had a stern look but didn’t protest when he intertwined their fingers.

***

 _He remembered._

After all these years, Ren remembered the day of her father’s death anniversary. 

Maybe it was because she gave it away all too easily; as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had a harder time schooling her emotions during this day and the days surrounding it. 

She should be over this. She was used to grieving alone. 

But somehow, the older she got, the more difficult it became to handle a loss. 

“How did you know?” Makoto asked.

He glanced down at her hand that was almost touching his on the rail. “You’re wearing his watch." He paused. "And I just remembered the date,” he said, rubbing his neck.

She gave a small chuckle at how he always amused her. “It’s one of the few belongings I have left of him,” she nodded, tracing a finger on the unassuming watch on her wrist.

She leaned forward against the railing as the sun cast pink and orange lights onto Tokyo Bay. The colorful lights were still off on Rainbow Bridge. Families were taking an evening stroll with their kids and dogs while others jogged the boardwalk paths. Couples like them also stopped to admire the setting sun. She breathed in the fresh waterfront air, feeling somewhat lighter. 

“What comforts me is that he told me every day he loved me. Maybe not the words per se, but he would kiss me good night and made sure to buy me the latest Buchi-kun merchandise without a fuss,” she reminisced. 

"Spoiled," he remarked with a self-satisfied look.

"Shut up," she nudged back. “If you had a daughter, I’m sure you’d spoil her.”

“Probably.”

“And you’d have the worst dad jokes.”

“You wound me.”

They shared a knowing smile.

“On the last day we saw each other that morning, he told me he loved me, and I said it back. Looking back, I’m glad he left this world knowing he was loved. I wonder if he thought of Mom, Sis, and I in his last moments.”

Nothing would ever take away the emptiness in her after losing Dad, but maybe Ren looking at her with that small, loving smile could heal some of the hurt.

Makoto turned away, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry for rambling. It’s been fourteen years. I don’t really get emotional anymore. It’s just—this day reminds me of how short life is. Everything could change in the blink of an eye. The present really is a gift.” 

He nodded, and she knew he understood, considering what he'd been through in the past. 

“With that said, I’m glad you’re here with me right now. Thank you...for loving me,” she breathed. She turned to fully face him, their bodies close enough to breathe the same air. Life was too short to stay mad at him and not appreciate this moment with him. 

“I always will,” he said in a sincere voice, stroking a hair behind her ear. He leaned in, and kissing him and hearing him say those words flooded an unburdening sensation through her. The tenderness in the way his mouth slanted over and enfolded hers left her breathless. 

She leaned under his chin, feeling his arm pull her close as if he too cherished this moment with her, and Makoto wanted nothing but the sunset and the sound of his steady heartbeat and the expansive feeling in her chest to last just a little longer.

A beat later, he loosened his hold on her, resting his forearms on the railing. 

“What’s wrong?”

His head dropped, the shadows of approaching twilight cast over his tired eyes. “It’s nothing,” he said, rubbing his neck. “I’ve just been running low on energy.” 

“What do you mean?” 

He didn’t reply. 

A tense silence stretched between them. Despite the golden orange illuminating his attractive jawline and smoldering eyes, a lack of color muted his face. He continued staring ahead as the last remnants of the setting sun finally descended below the horizon. 

She glanced down at the boardwalk, trying to deduce what he was acting cryptic about. 

And disappointed that despite their coming together, he had yet again hid behind his mask. 

She brought a hand to her chin, frowning. “Hey. You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you?” 

He looked at her in question before a pained expression befell his features. She felt her insides tense; the dark appearance he bore was none other than the one from his soul-baring moment on the Ferris Wheel. 

“I didn’t want to bring this up. Especially on a day like today,” he said. 

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” she said into the nightfall, not knowing if that were true.

He stood up with a deflated posture, shoving his hands into his pockets. He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. “I saw Sumire on Wednesday. She kissed me,” he said, facing the water. 

She felt her mouth drop open as she shoved down the familiar burning sensation in her stomach down. “I see.”

His head dipped as he spoke in a quiet voice. “And...I kissed her back. But it was only for like three seconds. It meant nothing.” 

Time froze.

She saw him look at her and heard him speaking, but she couldn’t discern what he was saying. 

All she heard was one thing, repeating over and over:

He chose Sumire.

Again.

Her grip on the rail tightened as the gathering darkness closed in on her and red spots flashed in her vision. Her lungs constricted at the thought of him kissing his ex-girlfriend; her mind stumbled, trying but failing to understand what brought her here. 

Makoto looked down, a coolness taking over her trembling hands. She summoned all the willpower she could to speak and hide her brittle tone. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“What? No. I mean, well—it didn’t mean anything.”

“So you weren’t going to tell me had I not noticed that you were hiding something.”

He hesitated. “I didn’t think it was important enough to mention.” 

Somehow, something about that response sounded familiar. 

“Why did you kiss her back?”

“I don’t know—it happened so fast. She threw herself at me, and I acted out of habit. It meant nothing,” he claimed.

“You had a choice.”

“I stopped myself. I _chose_ to stop, and I’m _choosing_ right now to be honest with you.”

“Good job, Ren, I commend you on your decision-making. You’re my hero,” she jeered, rolling her eyes. 

Ren flinched at that. 

Makoto knew those last three words would hurt; she knew she mocked the past hurts he’d shared in confidence. 

But she didn’t care anymore. He’d thrown her relationship baggage in her face without restraint. 

“So, it wouldn't mean anything to you if I kissed my ex-boyfriend back for three whole seconds out of habit?”

“Well…” he trailed off. 

“I can’t believe this,” she said, giving an incredulous laugh. “Double standards. Really, Ren?”

He grasped her shoulders. “Makoto, slow down. Please listen to me.” He glanced around as if worried they were making a scene.

“Do you still have feelings for her, Ren?”

“I mean, I care about her as a friend—”

“ _Do you have feelings for her? Yes or no,”_ she cut in with a tone that left no room for compromise. 

“I don’t, okay!” he insisted. 

With intensity, she retracted away from his touch. “Stop lying to me! If you didn’t have an ounce of romantic feelings for her, why did you kiss her?” 

They were in public, and people were probably giving them side glances, but at that moment, she didn't give a damn about social propriety. 

“I didn’t feel anything during that kiss, and I don’t feel anything for her now. I only love you. Mako, please. Believe me,” he pleaded, grabbing her hand.

She snatched her hand away, taking a step back away from him.

“You say you love me, and yet you kissed your ex-girlfriend. Do you hear what you’re saying right now?”

His hands balled into fists. “I stopped myself. It was a lapse in judgment. An honest mistake, I swear.”

Makoto scoffed. “You know what? I’d rather have you reject me straight to my face than hear you lie about how you don’t have any lingering feelings for her.” 

He broke eye contact, turning away.

She swallowed, already feeling something in her break. “The worst part is, you weren’t even going to tell me.”

“That’s because it meant nothing to me—”

“—Well it does to me. I’m your girlfriend, yet you kissed another woman, and I wouldn’t have even known!”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come out. 

Makoto wordlessly turned around and walked towards the station, her stride accelerating. 

“Wait, Makoto,” he said in a pleading voice.

She felt the weight of his arms clutch around her shoulders from behind, feeling the small press of his lips as he buried his face into her neck.

She shook her head, pressing the back of her cold hand onto her eyes. She was always a train wreck in front of him.

“I’m sorry. Let’s stop this fight,” he begged in a soft voice.

She only shook her head again, sniffling. 

Without a word, she wiped her tears, untangling herself from his arms. She leveled her gaze with his. 

“If you don’t have any feelings for her, why did you kiss her?”

He didn’t have an answer. Feelings or no, he was still hung up somehow in his past relationship. A hollow feeling in her chest spawned outward, consuming her very being. 

She couldn’t handle this pain, especially since this was the third heartbreak with him.

 _You never learn_ , her inner critic said in disappointment.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore,” she heard her voice say.

The desperation as he searched her eyes was evident. “Is that what you really want?”

Her inner critic vacillated: _Yes. No. I don’t know._

_But you kissed her. I thought I was your girlfriend._

She nodded and looked away. 

There was a dead pause. Ren dipped his head and stood still. She stole a glance at him, but his hair shielded his eyes. 

One last time, she turned around and walked away, and him not trying to go after her hurt more than she thought it would. 

***

It hit her; she was right all along. Ren loved her—she believed that much—but not enough to stay in love. Not enough to last after the honeymoon stage. 

Ren kissing his ex back proved that much. Three seconds, ten seconds—it didn’t matter; he still kissed his ex back.

She was mad at herself for not trusting herself. 

She was mad at herself for letting herself down again. 

Love never lasts. People always find a reason to fall out of love with her.

This was her fault, her inner critic said. It was that _something_ about her that made Ren unable to let go of what happened with his ex entirely. 

That _something_ about her that made her first ex-boyfriend lie to her and have her as his side fling. What made her second ex-boyfriend use her as a foster girlfriend until he found his forever home in another woman.

That _something_ about her that made her unworthy of real love. The kind of love that lasts long and endures. 

Ren had seen the broken parts of her—the insecurities, the anxiety, the fear—

—and hurt her.

She couldn’t burden her friends with her childish boy problems and self-pity. 

She hesitated at the thought of going to Sae’s place; she was a busy mom, and although Aya would have no clue why her aunt was a crying mess, she didn’t want to be one in front of her. 

Even if he were alive, she couldn’t tell Dad for fear of what he’d unleash on Ren. Mom maybe would’ve understood but—she recalled with a heavy pang in her heart—her few memories of her had faded.

Makoto only had herself.

Only hunching into her embrace and pressing her face into her tear-stained Buchi-kun pillow soothed her into a restless sleep that night. 

_Because when they get to know all of you, they still betray you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sees approval ratings drop a la the Phan-Site poll* lol


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers: Thank you for your patience and understanding of the delayed release of this chapter (believe me, I know how it feels to wait after an angsty cliffhanger). I really wanted to update earlier but I needed to give myself a break to recover from all the pressure I put on myself to update faster/the low moments of the writing process on top of handling life. It might take me another month or so to get the next (and final!) chapter out, I can't make any guarantees.
> 
> Nonetheless, I can’t thank you enough for all the kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks, and especially your wonderful comments. Each one seriously means a lot to me as much as Makoto and ShuMako do. :)

_January, Eleven years ago_

“That was pretty sad, getting yelled at by Haru like that,” Ren recalled with a small laugh.

Makoto shook her head, smiling. “I can’t believe she called us the worst out of the group.”

Yesterday in Mementos marked the end of their week-long fight of not speaking to each other. It was Noir who snapped at everyone to shut up at the rest stop after a sloppy battle that screamed internal strain, calling out the usual bickerers to make amends: Oracle and Fox, Skull and Mona, and the infrequent but stern Joker and Queen.

(Though unlike the usuals, their bickering was a silent but palpable type. He and Makoto agreed to always present a united front; they thought they did an excellent job hiding their disagreements, but they didn’t.)

He shared a laugh with Makoto before she focused back on her notes for her upcoming university entrance exam. Sojiro’s beat-up couch sunk as she shifted beside him. If they both pressed their hands down by their sides on the worn cushion, his pinky would touch hers. 

“I’m the better getaway driver, by the way,” Makoto smiled to herself, hovering a Buchi-kun lead pencil over a page in her notebook.

“I’m sorry, who was the one who got us out of that mess yesterday?” 

“That was just one time. I still am the better driver.” 

“So the Queen has jokes now,” Ren smirked. 

Makoto bit back a sound, lips curled in as if trying not to smile. 

Well, Makoto _was_ right: it was just that one time. While his quick thinking rescued them when a part of her meticulously crafted plan fell through, her contingency plans were a safety net when his flashy, cavalier moves landed them in a corner (yesterday wasn’t an exception). 

“Hey. I’m sorry again,” he brought up in a quiet voice, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, and that I insulted your methods.” He hesitated. “I’m also sorry that I thought Sumire’s powers and Maruki’s palace weren’t important enough to mention.” 

Makoto instantly looked up, shaking her head and waving her hands in surrender. “N-No, I’m sorry.” A light pink shaded her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have cast an aspersion on your leadership style in front of everyone.”

He couldn’t help a chuckle. Only Makoto would say something like that.

She shifted her weight on the couch again, brushing a hair behind her ear. “Um...I think you’re a great leader just so you know. I really appreciate all you do for our team,” she said. 

“Oh.” He coughed. “Well, that’s because I have a great advisor,” he replied. 

She giggled, grabbing her elbows. Seeing Makoto’s cheeks grow a darker shade of pink made him aware of a warmth stirring in his chest that he shouldn’t be having.

An uneasy silence settled between them as they heard the familiar drone of coffee beans in a grinder downstairs. Why the old man was still here baffled him. 

“Let’s make an agreement,” he heard Makoto say. She offered her hand to him in a handshake, sitting up straight and entirely at ease, her eyes lit up and searching. It was the same face she had when she pledged to be someone he could rely on.

Ren caught himself staring. 

He shook his head and nodded, surrounding her delicate fingers with his.

“To nip our disagreements in the bud—”

“To not fight in front of the kids—”

A pause.

“Did—did you just say ‘not fight in front of the kids’?” Makoto balked. 

“I did,” he replied, unruffled. “You heard Haru. We are the caretakers of this team, are we not?”

Makoto’s face wrinkled in amusement as she gave a small chuckle. She squeezed his hand in agreement. “It _is_ always you and me right, Team Dad?” she teased. 

“We _do_ make a good team, Team Mom,” he smiled back, shoving deep down the giddiness tingling within at what they just called each other and how smooth her palm was on his.

His fingers lingered a moment too long when one of their phones vibrated. Makoto jerked her hand away as she picked up her phone on the table. 

“I should probably head home now. Sis actually bought dinner,” she said, looking up from her phone. “I guess I’ll see you next week?” 

_Wait. Next Thursday?_

“Oh—actually, I don’t think I can meet next Thursday.”

“Hm? Did something come up?” she asked.

He tensed at Makoto’s confused look. 

_Crap._ Thursday evening strategy meetings between the two of them were a scheduled thing, and he’d unknowingly double-booked. 

He cleared his throat, bracing himself for his best friend’s reaction. 

“I haven’t told anyone yet, but...Sumire and I started dating. And...we’re going on a date that evening.”

***

Makoto didn’t realize she missed her cue to respond until she noticed that Ren didn’t break eye contact. “Oh,” was all she managed to say. 

Ren cocked his head as if he were expecting her to say something more. “I mean—congratulations!” she amended with a tight smile. Her hands clenched on her lap.

He nodded.

She hoped he didn’t notice how high-pitched her voice became. “Th-that’s good news. You must be happy.” 

He fiddled with a lock of hair over his eyes. “Yeah. It just sort of happened. Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t make it next week.”

“I-It’s okay,” she said in a pathetic voice.

 _You are so stupid,_ her inner voice said.

She sat there, immobilized, her thoughts spiraling out of control. 

Suddenly, she was back at the school entrance, an audience member to yet another intimate Ren-and-Sumire moment; like that one time after school, Sumire huddled close to him under his umbrella (while _she_ ran to the station with her jacket as her sorry excuse of an umbrella).

Or at the School Festival when they’d mesmerized everyone (including her) in the gymnasium with their charm and flashy sensuality, dancing as the perfect couple. She ended up giving the donuts she’d made for him to Yusuke. Blunt as he was, he let her keep her dignity by not pointing out the obvious that she looked like she wanted to cry.

Or the time Ren carried her bridal style, then tenderly on his back when he saved her from their first encounter with the delusional Maruki.

Or the way she would arch onto him during their showtime attack and the small smile on his face that said he’d liked it.

Or how close they stood next to each other at New Year’s, and how he probably intended to spend it alone with her had she and the group not accidentally ran into them at the shrine.

All of those moments converged into one truth: that Ren and Sumire were absolutely, nauseatingly, perfect for one another. 

In contrast to his close contact with Sumire, Ren always kept a comfortable distance with her, even when she thought he looked like he wanted to kiss her on Christmas Eve night when she unintentionally got snowed in with him in this very room.

Who was she kidding? It was purely business between her and Ren. Teenage hormones were to blame for assuming romantic intentions behind their accidental touches when he’d sit or stand next to her.

Sumire was polite and pretty with beautiful long hair. Meanwhile, Makoto was a people-pleaser whose face had only a subtle attractiveness to it. Her short hair didn’t do her any favors in the beauty department ( _that_ she learned when she finally tuned in to what the boys whispered about in the hallways: ‘long hair is way sexier than short hair’). 

While Makoto made a decent bento lunch, Sumire’s dishes tasted better to her. In battle (and outside the Metaverse), Violet was fluid and suave like Joker; Makoto was forceful and heavy-handed. Though Sumire was shy, she looked cute and appealing to all. Meanwhile, Makoto was awkward, stiff, and couldn’t dance. She had a hard time making friends and getting the student body to like her.

The first year’s innocent eyes made boys’ heads turn; Makoto didn’t know what having charm meant. Sumire was upfront about her romantic feelings for Ren—everybody knew she was smitten with him. Makoto, on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted nor what to do with the strange energy between them when they were alone. 

Worst of all, Sumire was her team member of the one group she truly belonged to and cherished; she liked Sumire. 

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Ren liked her, too—and chose to give his heart to her. Sumire deserved it, after all. She’d been through so much dealing with her severe depression and survivor’s guilt; _any_ boy would love to hold and take care of a cute girl like her.

Makoto just wasn’t good enough. 

She just wasn’t that girl. 

“Makoto? Are you okay?” she heard his voice say.

She straightened her back. “Huh?” she said, turning to face Ren. 

She caught the slight furrow in his eyebrows beneath his frames, the expression he had when he suspected something was off.

Makoto shook her head. “I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.” She managed a smile, trying hard not to make it a half-hearted one. She reached for her pencil case that sat a little too far on his side of the table, stuffing her study materials into random places in her bookbag. 

He looked away from her as if he did something wrong. 

She swallowed, yet that didn’t do anything to prevent her voice from sounding hoarse. “I-I’ll be going now.” 

Ren stood up the second she did, circling his side of the table to catch up to her as she made a beeline for the stairs. “I’ll walk you back.”

“...No. I’m fine. Good night,” she nodded over her shoulder. If she turned around and looked him in the eye, she would surely cry. 

She gave a hurried goodbye downstairs to a confused Boss before hearing the familiar jingle of the door close behind her. She ducked into an empty alleyway surrounded by apartment complexes, hot tears stinging her cheeks as she choked on a silent sob.

 _I am so stupid._

By the time she reached the station, her tears had dried. Based on her reflection on her cell phone’s lock screen, it looked like she hadn’t cried at all.

Makoto made a horrible liar, but she was good at shrinking herself and pretending she was okay. 

***

_September, Present Day_

“No offense, bro, but you look like shit. Your hair’s oily as fuck,” Ryuji said, stuffing a slice of pork belly and a large bite of rice in his mouth. 

“None taken,” Ren said with a groan. The smoke from the grill only worsened the grimy feeling of his unwashed hair. “So this is rock bottom,” he said as if he were a tour guide presenting a new location. 

Ryuji’s jab at his appearance normally would’ve entertained him, but instead, it left him numb. He saw the repulsed look on Ryuji’s face when he walked up to the table where he sat, probably noticing the bags under his eyes from staying up late indulging in a beer or two yet still waking up early for work. Or his sluggish movements from postponing too many workouts, and how he’d been too tired to shave. 

(Morgana liked to point out said features daily. The annoying not-cat would be offended if Ren ever pointed out how similar he and Ryuji were. It was practically why they butted heads.)

He filled his longtime friend in on what happened two weeks ago on that awful day, and the mistake he committed two days before Makoto rightfully dumped him.

“Dude, what were you thinking?” Ryuji paused, holding his chopsticks in midair.

Ren brought a palm to his face, hunching over. “I wasn’t thinking at all.”

“Do you still have feelings for your ex?”

His nose wrinkled, miffed his friend would assume that of him. “No, I don’t.”

“Then why’d you kiss her back?”

“I—I don’t know. I just acted out of impulse, I guess. It was only for like three seconds, and I stopped.” 

Ryuji narrowed his eyes. “Force of habit is a pretty bad excuse, bro,” he said, guzzling another bite of brisket and rice.

“I know. Pathetic.”

“Kissing her back, even if it was for one second, implies you had some feelings.”

“I know it does...but I don’t. I don’t see her in that way anymore.”

“So why’d you do it?”

Ren sighed. He eyed his empty shot glass and the empty bottle of sake they’d split, deciding it best, for now, to not get a third one. “I was acting on autopilot. I never said no to her. Maybe I did it because I’m so used to smoothing things over with her. I was feeling like shit and just gave in.”

“You smoothed things over with her, that’s for sure.”

Ren kneaded his temples. 

“Whatever the reason was, you hurt Makoto pretty bad, man.”

He let out a groan. “Not helping.” 

Then.

He sat upright. “What makes you say that? Did you see her? Did she say something?” he asked with wide eyes. Ryuji jumped at the snap of his sudden interest.

“No, but Ann’s pretty pissed off, so that means it’s really bad.”

Ren crumpled. A third bottle of sake sounded appealing. “I really fucked up.”

Ryuji only nodded.

“We all learn the hard way. Can’t hide anything from them. Especially if yours is a sub-commander of a police station. Well, _was_ yours…” Ryuji said, his nervous laugh hanging in the air. 

Ren winced at what he didn’t want to accept. Though it felt like they just had another upsetting fight, it wasn’t. This time, they didn’t reconcile in the end. She wasn’t his girlfriend anymore. 

“Have you tried talking to her?” Ryuji said, picking at the last pieces of unburnt meat. 

Ren took a sip from his glass of water. “That’s the worst part. She’s just been leaving me on read. Except she hasn’t read the messages I sent her three days ago yet. Hasn’t returned any of my calls.” 

“Damn. Cutting you off cold turkey, that’s rough.”

“It’s gotten to the point where I’ve thought of visiting her at her apartment and the station.”

“Bro.”

“I know, I know. I told myself I wouldn’t do that. I want to give her space. I know she needs time. But I’m also losing my mind.” _I miss her so badly_ , he wanted to say but thought that’d be too mushy given what he’d already shared.

“I’m sorry, man. Wish I could do something to help.”

His head perked up as the idea hit him. “Actually—if you see her or when you talk to Ann, can you mention me?” 

Ryuji blinked sideways, scratching the back of his head. “Er-I don’t think it’s the right time to bring you guys up with Ann, but I’ll see what I can do.”

He shrugged, knowing that his idea might not be a good one. 

Ryuji placed down his chopsticks for the first time during the entire meal. “You know, maybe you’re right. She just needs time to cool down. Knowing you guys, she’ll come around, and you’ll talk it out.” 

“Thanks, man.”

“Good luck.”

As he plopped onto his tiny loft that night imbibing on a can of beer, Ren surmised what Makoto would be doing right now. Not that he had any right to know. She’d probably be done with her shower, preparing her breakfast and lunch for tomorrow, like she’d done the first week he stayed with her when they were just friends. 

Ren wondered if that was how he should have left things between them. If that would’ve prevented the hurt he’s feeling right now, the damage she’s feeling right now. 

No. Despite their relationship failing—because of _his_ failure—he didn’t regret a second of it. Even the fights. 

He surprised himself at how argumentative he’d been with her. It was probably because he’d held back his tongue for so long when he was with Sumire. He never argued with anyone else as he did with Makoto, not even Morgana, though he came close being an annoying sibling like he was.

The more he thought about it, it came down to his bond with Makoto: something about her made him show her his raw, honest self. His resentful, stubborn, insecure self. 

Long ago, Makoto was his closest confidant. She challenged him as his advisor and as a friend. After all this time dating other people and entering each others’ lives again, he found nothing changed about that dynamic. 

He’d never felt this way about any of the women he’d been with before. That wasn’t an exaggeration; with Makoto, they bantered, argued, and laughed. He was entirely comfortable expressing himself to her, even the ugly emotions. He lost himself when he was with Sumire, and he didn’t feel any real connection to the girls he’d met and bedded from that dating app.

There was a deep connection between them, one that pierced through his deepest layers and flooded them with light. She pushed him out of his lived-in comfort zones, alright—that’s why they'd fought. _What growth doesn’t hurt,_ Sojiro told him on more than one occasion.

 _Don’t you think we’re going too fast?_ she’d asked. Ren wanted to take things slow with her and not get too ahead of himself, but rushing in was something he couldn’t resist. It wasn’t just the sexual chemistry between them that brought him to his knees; it was hard for him to explain, but their connectedness made him consider on more than one occasion that she could be the one. 

He thought being everything for everybody would fulfill his yearning to be accepted. And it did, for the most part. Yet loneliness lived in his mind even in the heyday of being a Phantom Thief, because no one else understood what it was like to be falsely accused, betrayed by your own family, beaten, and incarcerated. 

But it was Makoto who acknowledged to the group what he went through in that interrogation room and how close he was to death, her voice trembling when she tried to avoid the graphic details; when she said she was truly glad he made it back safe. _It was a breeze_ , he coolly deflected, but Makoto knew better, granting him a look that said she saw straight through him. 

It was something so simple, almost trivial, from so long ago. 

But at that moment, he remembered feeling seen. Someone heard him.

As sentimental and cheesy as it was, he knew that was probably one of the most intimate experiences with her during their high school days that he never told her about; should’ve told her about. How hearing her say those words left him speechless. 

Makoto was always good at that, telling him what he didn’t know he needed to hear, as opposed to what he wanted to hear.

_You’re not her Savior._

She knew he’d adopted a persona to please others, to avoid any hint of wrongdoing on his end. It was a defense mechanism to ward off the authorities and to get people to like him so he can prove he was an upright person and not his rap sheet. 

So he can avoid the rejection and abandonment that stabbed him the day his parents disowned him for doing the right thing. 

As if it were a talent, he basked in being a helper and confidant to all, not knowing how to say no—all for approval and a sense of worth. He chased this feeling of importance, especially after the glory days ended. 

He found a sense of purpose in taking care of a vulnerable, emotionally dependent girlfriend. Without him, she was no one, lost without an identity. It felt good to be needed by her and not be alone.

But being needed didn’t necessarily equate to real love. 

Shouldering her insecurities as his own eroded his headspace and identity. It was why he didn’t know how to draw boundaries for his own needs and held onto a dysfunctional helping relationship for too long.

He hated himself for this mistake, on top of the lingering worthlessness that’s plagued him the moment his parents abandoned him.

 _I hope one day, you can forgive yourself._

_I want to support you, even when you’re hurting._

Makoto knew all of this and was the only person who didn’t let him get away with his cool guy act. That was their bond.

And he fucked that all up, choosing old thoughts and behaviors that no longer served him.

Though his last breakup was difficult, it didn’t hurt as badly as this one with Makoto. This one consumed him, compounding the pain from his past wounds. 

There was no way there’d be a second chance with her, and he had no right to ask for one. 

If it were the other way around, he’d probably forgive her bout of micro-cheating, but it would be difficult. A part of him, even if they could be happy again, would always be questioning his worth and whether he could fully trust her again, just as she was probably thinking the same about him. 

He would be that insecure boyfriend who’d shoot death glares rivaling hers at any man who ogled her or went near her at any gathering. Her being at work would continuously make him nervous, often surrounded by men she was. He’d immediately grow suspicious and jealous of any man’s name that’d appear on her phone or she’d mention offhandedly, even if it were just strictly business. He’d hide these behaviors well because, without a doubt, they would upset her.

The shittiest thing was, he’d grow frustrated and feel stifled if _she_ did any of those things. As if only _he_ was allowed to be the insecure one. Double standard indeed. 

He was so fucking weak.

As much as he tried not to, he swiped through the last photos he had of her when she was still his: pictures from their mini trip to Hakone. Her reading on the bullet train. A profile of her in the open-air bath, relaxed and elegant. Her looking for Mt. Fuji at Lake Ashinoko, her pout so cute that he couldn’t help but kiss those lips when she told him to delete that picture too. Simple moments that reminded him of the empty space in his chest. 

He tossed his phone to the foot of the bed, resigning himself to another night of insomnia. With the numbing buzz from the beer now long gone, self-loathing resurfaced again, laughing at him.

He indeed was a fool. 

***

It’d been three weeks since Makoto ended things with Ren. Another morning of waking up alone and what she couldn’t discern as clarity or regret. Perhaps it was both. 

Everything in her bedroom reminded her of him. She’d turn and mash her face into her pillow only to smell his sweat and laundry detergent; it was the pillow he’d usually sleep on. Or reach in her drawer for a pair of no-show socks only to find his spare socks and underwear in there for those times he’d spontaneously sleep over, and they’d oversleep and cut it too close. Or see the empty spot on her nightstand where he’d leave his phone and wallet. She still didn’t know what to do with his dress shirts in her closet and toothbrush now that they were no longer together.

Although Haru and Ann were initially mad at her for not calling them the night the breakup happened, they made time to spend the first two entire Sundays with her. This kind gesture had sadly become somewhat of a post-breakup tradition for Makoto, but the time Makoto spent with her caring, uplifting friends always left her feeling warm at the end of the day. 

At seven-thirty in the morning, they’d dragged her out of the apartment for a morning jog at Yoyogi Park to have a rewarding brunch at Omotesando afterward. The late afternoon and evening signaled the time for shopping and dinner at a fine-dining restaurant in Ginza (with same-day reservations courtesy of Haru). The day always ended at Haru’s flagship cafe for dessert coffee and late-night real talk when Makoto would finally crack and allow herself to stop being the strong motherly figure of the group for once. 

_We know you like to be the tough one. But we’re in this together,_ Ann leaned in with a hug, relieving some of the heaviness weighing down her spirit. 

Yet despite her efforts, Makoto couldn’t help but feel alone when she turned the lock on her front door to greet the stillness of an empty apartment. 

Loneliness wasn’t something foreign to Makoto; it was the norm. It wasn’t a surprise that things returned to the way they were before Ren walked back into her life: her losing herself in her work. At least at the station, she could forget about Ren and focus on something bigger than her failed love life. The routine was comfortable. 

But as soon as night fell, thoughts of Ren engulfed her all over again.

This wasn’t her first breakup, but it seemed with each new breakup she added to her record, the more difficult it became. 

This one was by far the worst. This time, there was a hollow feeling that came with losing a trusted friend—the humiliation of showing your weak side only to be left alone in the end.

Late nights and early mornings rendered her weak: it was when she’d miss him the most, and her inner critic was the loudest, disappointed she brought this all on herself. 

It was when the simple memory of looking into his playful eyes as they teased and verbally sparred with each other, the feeling of his comforting arms holding her after a bad week at work, or a chaste good morning kiss made her mind run in circles. 

On some days, she was filled with anger, hating Ren for what he did and ready to quit on love, only to be tempted that same evening to shamefully call him over to feel his touch for just one night. He’d probably indulge her, but it’d be empty sex, devoid of intimacy. That kind of sex was more appropriate with a stranger, not with a friend. 

If her mind wanted to go into overdrive and find more reasons to feel sorry for herself—or as Ren spitefully put it, more reasons to feed her anxiety—this felt like when Ren first rejected her for Sumire in high school and then a second time. 

(Technically, she was the one who cut off any possibility for them to be together the second time, but it still hurt when Futaba offhandedly mentioned he went back to Sumire no more than a week later.) 

She knew it was pointless of her to keep comparing their relationship to what he had with Sumire. There was a reason he wasn’t together with his ex-girlfriend anymore. 

But did his validating words matter in the end? Even when he told her in their post-coital cuddles how smart and beautiful she was to him and how happy he was with her, why couldn't she fully accept his words? 

_Maybe along the way, you’ll find that someone who loves the happy, authentic you,_ he’d told her when she wanted to give up on dating. He always knew what to say.

She _did_ find someone who loved her authentic self—and sabotaged it. All because she was afraid of getting hurt again.

It was easier to keep him at an arm’s length to lessen the blow of when he did finally hurt her. Better to proceed with caution instead of inviting more heartbreak. 

Because when they get to know all of you, they still betray you.

 _You should’ve ended things sooner before it got too serious. That’s why you’re in this mess,_ her inner critic chided. 

Another urge to cry submerged her as she lay in the fetal position, wrapping her comforter around her. 

She’s been here before: sitting alone with her pain, feeling sorry for herself, and hating herself for loving him. Disappointed love didn’t turn out the way she wanted it to (again). Feeling stupid for believing in love and afraid she’ll never get over him.

She breathed in the disappointment, acutely aware of how they hurt each other. 

How she hurt herself. 

Breathed in how overwhelmed and unworthy she was. 

In the painful silence of her mind, a gentle, kind voice sat with her: 

She still had herself. She’s always had herself. She was still breathing. 

It was up to her if she wanted to stay here.

***

Ten more minutes.

Makoto stayed quiet with her arms crossed, glancing at her watch. _Just two more sessions after today. Let’s just get this over with._ She crossed a leg over the other, back ramrod straight as she sat in the corner of the musty, shabby couch. 

This was her third session with Dr. Nakamura, mandated by the Chief Inspector along with a week of paid leave. _You were ordered not to meddle in this case. A professional distance is vital in this line of work. You know that Inspector,_ her superior admonished. 

_The victim was a child. Of course I’m emotional. On top of that, my ex-boyfriend whom I really loved broke my heart on the day of my dad’s death anniversary,_ she wanted to say but thought it better to let this one go. 

“I believe I’m here to discuss how a certain case affected me,” Makoto pointed out after what was like a five-minute silence of reading each book title on the bookcase in her mind. 

“With all due respect, Niijima-san, it seems you have more than professional stress to work through.”

Makoto bit back a retort. This was why she was upset at her boss for making her do this. She knew the psychologist would poke and prod at personal matters she didn’t want to share because she’d serve it back to her and make her feel emotions she was tired of feeling.

Dr. Nakamura continued with a flat affect on her face. “I’ve dealt with many law enforcement professionals who overwork themselves, such as yourself. You deal with the worst human behavior in the framework of a limited system. It’s an understatement that your mental health suffers as well.”

A part of Makoto bent; she couldn’t deny _that_. As much as she dreaded these appointments, it was observations like these that made her sort of want to return. 

“Do you love yourself, Niijima-san?” the psychologist asked with steepled fingers. 

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked, do you love yourself?”

Makoto sucked in a breath. 

All her life, she’d been a people pleaser, always too concerned about how others viewed her. She wouldn’t show it, but it bothered her whenever someone didn’t like her.

And all her life, she was never good enough. Sae once said she was useless. 

In this society, a number always defined her worth: a test score, her ranking, years of experience, weight, measurements. 

And in this society, not meeting those numbers meant one was a failure, a letdown. It shunned those who were different, imperfect; those who didn’t have _x, y_ , and _z_ by a certain age. 

Despite following all the rules and being cautious, she remained a lonely amateur at love compared to her peers. She only had repeated mistakes to show for herself. 

Others were deserving, and she wasn’t. She was unworthy, defective. Why else was she alone?

Tears threatened to burst from her eyes when a resounding _No_ echoed throughout the parts of herself she’d rather keep in the dark. Somehow, despite having cried over Ren for the past three and a half weeks, she still had some tears left for herself. Neck-deep she was in shame, being twenty-eight and reaching for the tissue box over something she should’ve figured out years ago.

Why was it so hard to just lie and say yes, she did love herself?

Dr. Nakamura shuffled her paperwork and cleared her throat.

“It looks like you’re trying to process uncomfortable emotions. However, I’m afraid our session is at its end. I have an assignment for you.”

Damn her reflective statements and lack of compassionate ones. But, Makoto shrugged, this was all business; she was there to challenge her, not be her friend.

The scratch of a pen scribbled before the therapist tore a sheet from her notepad and handed it to her. ‘5 Things I Like About Myself’ was at the top followed by a list numbered one through five. 

“Come back next week with a complete list. Extra credit if you write ten.”

For one of the rare occurrences in her entire life, Makoto only wanted to do the bare minimum.

***

The breath in Ren’s lungs left him.

Despite an exhausting day of long meetings that could’ve been e-mails and this past appointment, a surge of energy pulsed through his veins. 

He knew that figure and its poised stride heading towards the exit. Knew how that roomy grey plaid blazer smelled like.

It’d been three and a half weeks of hell not seeing her face nor hearing her voice. Now that she was coincidentally here, _now that this was real_ , his voice called out to her and his legs carried him towards her before his mind could yell at him that this was a big mistake. 

Time slowed down when she swiveled and met his eyes, her parted lips mirroring his. Something in him stirred as he recalled how those lips once cherished his. Her tired eyes widened under her blow-dried bangs, transforming from surprise to conflicted to vacant.

Ren gulped.

This was so awkward, reuniting amidst rows of chairs at the sterile lobby of a medical office building. 

As was fitting for his reunion with Makoto.

“Hi,” was all he brought himself to say. A war raged on in his head—the weight of what he did and the harsh reality of what they were no longer crushed his impulse to reach out and hold her. His fists clenched in his pockets; what he’d give to embrace her again. 

“Hi,” she said. 

Damn, it felt so good to hear her voice, let alone breathe the same air as her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he tried.

She only nodded with a clinical indifference, honed none other than from hard-earned practice in her field. 

Ren coughed, failing to ignore the sting of her professional demeanor. “Hey. Dr. Inoue isn’t your therapist right?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“That’s a relief. That would’ve been weird,” he punctuated with a nervous laugh. 

“Yeah, it would have,” she replied, unamused. 

An unbearable, stilted pause descended, just like the respectable chasm between them that gnawed at his insides. 

_I’ll take this,_ Ren reasoned. At least she acknowledged his existence and hadn’t slapped him nor stormed off on him. Yet.

Before he lost her for good, he cleared his throat, lifting a casual hand. “Do you...have somewhere to be right now?”

“...Not really.” 

His gut churned with an impending sense of hope and doom.

“Do you want to check out this new ramen place with me? If it’s not too much trouble for you.”

Ren held his breath, watching her weigh a response. He brought his hand to rub at the increasing temperature on his neck.

“Sure. That sounds good,” she said in a polite voice. He thought he saw her shoulders relax a little. 

Ren silently thanked the universe for having mercy on him, praying that she won’t change her mind.

***

Of course, the new ramen place that boasted the best shio ramen in town wasn’t taking any new customers. The line cut off at the fourth neighboring store, an attendant bowing and apologizing to grumbling patrons as he turned them away.

Ren had acted fast. With his charm conveniently reduced to existent, he knew he couldn’t afford to have his quick-thinking fail him. If so, she’d leave and he had no clue when she would let him ever see her again. 

He thanked the universe again for its clemency when she agreed to join him at a diner known for their _omurice_ two blocks from the crowded ramen restaurant. 

Seated at the low-table in the corner, they averted each others’ gazes for the majority of the meal. Yet Ren couldn’t help but steal glances at her, hoping she was doing the same for him.

He always found her so attractive how polished and naturally elegant she looked in the way she dressed and carried herself. Though she wasn’t in her work clothes, which was odd on a Wednesday. He mustered up all the self-control he could to not reach for her hand or touch her face. He had no right to invade her space.

“You look beautiful. As usual,” he said without thinking. _Unlike my disheveled self._

“Thank you,” she said in a soft-spoken voice. Her posture slouched a little. 

Something was bothering her, but was he allowed to ask? Part of him didn’t want to know: she probably didn’t want to be here with him but was doing so out of consideration. She probably didn’t want anything to do with him. Though he knew he deserved this, it did nothing to soothe the shattered feeling inside him.

He braved another glance at her face when she wasn’t looking, her smooth features tightening and relaxing as if she too didn’t know how to navigate this new dynamic of former-lovers-turned-sort-of-friends. 

His gaze snapped up from his hands to look up at her when she finally spoke, his palms slick with sweat.

“So you’re seeing a therapist?” she asked.

He feigned a nonchalant shrug. “It’s like you said, I have issues.”

She didn’t laugh at his self-deprecation as he expected.

Knowing well he officially opened the door to a deep conversation, he admitted, “I haven’t been okay with myself. I haven’t been for a while, actually.”

She didn’t respond.

“What about you?” he asked. He had to try, even if his voice was shaky.

He caught the way her shoulders caved as her hands folded around her cup of green tea. “I sort of got in trouble at work. I have two more mandatory sessions left and was placed on a one-week leave.”

“You? The dignified Inspector Niijima?” 

She rolled her eyes at him, and a tiny hope fluttered in him. He’ll take whatever semblance of normalcy he can get. Garnering any sort of reaction from the prim and proper Niijima Makoto always left him with a weird sense of self-satisfaction.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

He didn’t dare to press further and risk his limited time with her. After this meal, it was back to the harsh reality that he wouldn’t be going home with her, and that it was goodbye for an indefinite amount of time. 

He might as well accept his situation and be grateful she even bothered to give him the time of day, let alone talk to him.

“But...I guess you’re not the only one who hasn’t been okay with themselves,” he heard her say.

They both looked up, finally locking eyes with each other. Something fated clicked into place. The glimmer in her eyes pulled him back to the beginning, back to the time when they’d exchanged embarrassing secrets and kisses late at night.

Back when he was her special person, and she was his.

***

“Here’s my portion,” Makoto said, turning to him and holding out a clean one thousand yen note with two hands. 

“No, let me take this. This was my idea, after all.” He felt his pockets for his wallet. Strange; it wasn’t there. He dug into his pockets again as if there were more space in them to search. 

Nothing. It was probably sitting in his briefcase at home when he dropped it off before heading to his appointment. But that couldn’t be—he swore it was in his front pocket, with his cellphone in the other, when he ran into Makoto. 

“Everything okay?” Makoto asked. 

“Uh, yeah. Just looking for my wallet.”

The cashier looked over his shoulder, glancing at the huffing salaryman behind them.

Makoto seemed to have sensed the impatient patron behind them as she pulled out another one thousand yen bill and presented it to the cashier.

“Thanks, Makoto, I swear I’ll pay you back,” Ren murmured with slumped shoulders. How embarrassing. On top of a huge apology he had to tell her soon, he owed her money now, too.

“It’s okay, Ren,” she said in a calm voice. “You...would have done the same for me.”

“Of course,” he replied, not quite able to look her in the eye. 

They exited the restaurant, grey skies and cloud cover above them. He caught the smell of freshly wet concrete as small floods streamed along the street gutters. 

“Looks like we got lucky and sat out the downpour,” she observed, holding out a hand to check for any drizzling. “Hopefully this typhoon ends soon.”

“Yeah.” This small talk was killing him. He fixed his gaze at the stoplight, feeling his throat tighten, the words he wanted to say unable to push through. 

But instead of initiating a goodbye and leaving him there empty as he expected, Makoto remained next to him, bringing a hand to her chin. 

“We should probably try to find your wallet. Let’s retrace your steps and check out the _kōban_ along the way,” she said.

His head perked up. “You really don’t have to do that. I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure someone found it. You just had it with you, right?”

Ren didn’t really believe in luck—his life philosophy was one makes their luck—until today. It was pure luck that he ran into Makoto and she actually talked to him, and even discussed (well, mentioned) their mental well-being over _omurice_. Even though he was no longer her business, she offered to help him find his wallet, even if she was just acting out of her professional obligations while she was off-duty.

“I guess I can’t refuse the help of an Inspector to find my lost item,” he relented.

She gave a little smile at that, and the air left his lungs again. 

But of course, before he could celebrate his small win, a car zoomed straight through the wide puddle gathered at the curb right next to him, splashing him. 

Makoto recoiled with her hands covering her mouth, along with other bystanders who were probably suppressing their delight at his misfortune. 

For a long second, he and Makoto blinked at each other before she rushed to his side, reaching up to dab a handkerchief all over his hair and face. Despite the filth that covered him, he couldn’t help but notice how close her cute pout was to his lips and how each spot on his body that she pressed her hand against tingled in agony. 

Patting to no avail with a saturated handkerchief, Makoto soon realized that his dress shirt was a lost cause. The worst part: his socks were fucking soaked. 

He deserved this, he surmised. The universe was telling him he was getting too cocky and pushing his luck.

***

Nothing came out of their informal search of the medical office lobby, and the receptionist only shrugged, pointing to the empty Lost and Found bin. 

They stopped by each police box along the way only to come up empty-handed. Makoto proceeded to file a missing item report for him at the last _kōban_ they reached, despite his protests to fill it out himself. _You said you’d accept the help of an Inspector,_ she insisted. 

Ren couldn’t argue with that. 

Somehow they ended up strolling through Shiba Park in silence, a comfortable, stifling distance between them. The shadows of dusk spread throughout the sky as the first lights of Tokyo Tower flashed on.

Makoto spoke into the quiet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find your wallet. How embarrassing for an Inspector.” 

“Please. You deal with much bigger matters than a lost item. You don’t have to apologize for my aging memory.” 

Her pace slowed, as if she were also rehearsing in her head what to say next. Like preparing how to tell him goodbye.

“Anyway—” Makoto started.

_Not yet, Makoto. Not yet._

“—Can I walk you home?” The words spouted out of his throat in an embarrassing high pitch. 

They both gave a start at his outburst.

He coughed in a failed attempt to recover. “It’s the least I can do for you. Just let me have this last piece of dignity,” he half-joked.

A twinkle of amusement lit her eyes as she nodded. 

Another win. Thank you, universe. 

Things could only get better from here. He can finally apologize and pour out the mouthful of things he had to tell her before they’d officially be strangers to each other.

“Sure. But before we go, you do know that you have bird droppings on your shoulder, yes?” she said, a trace of a smile crossing her face.

_Are you fucking kidding me? Shouldn’t those bastards be asleep by now?_

He must have controlled his facial muscles quite well because it seemed like she didn’t read the sheer indignation that took over him.

Then.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

_I just got shat on and my clothes and socks are soaked in street water. You had to pay for my meal and I dragged you in on a fool’s errand. Oh, and I can’t breathe when I’m around you._

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.” 

“You’re seeing things.” 

She tensed at his side, trying to repress a noise. It didn’t work as she tilted her head back, exploding in laughter. A couple sitting at a nearby bench looked at them, but Ren didn’t care. Even if it was at his expense, her grin and raucous cackling flooded his senses with an addicting thrill, as if he forgot how feeling alive felt until now. 

“Are you sure _you’re_ okay?” he deadpanned, struggling to not give in to the contagion. 

“It’s just—” Makoto tried to catch her breath, before dissolving into laughter once again, arms cradled around her midsection. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, aware of his ears growing warm. “Are you done now?” 

With a hand pressed to her chest, her panting slowed into deeper breaths. “I’m sorry. It’s just so funny seeing you pretend you’re not flustered.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, flexing his neck back and forth. “It’s part of my charm.”

“If that’s what you call it.”

“You’re making me blush.” That double entendre was for only him to know.

“I don’t know how you say half the things you say with a straight face.”

“I’m sure you could pull it off.”

She didn’t buy it, breaking into an animated giggle again. Unable to control himself any longer, he surrendered to the giddiness, and together they laughed like children without a care in the world. Or like crazy people. Maybe both. 

***

After ten minutes of poking fun at the sound of his sloshing socks, they stopped in front of her building, where they’d naturally enter as a couple many times before. 

Makoto recalled how funny things turned out. They hadn’t talked for three and a half weeks (two of which she nonstop hated him and had Eiko’s breakup playlist on repeat at the gym) yet here they were, spending time together again with this energy between them. He, too, noticed this vibe, for he played along with it. She couldn’t deny that meeting him helped her see so much humor, even excitement in the most trivial things.

“It was nice seeing you again. Thanks for today,” she said.

Ren shook his head. “No, thank you. It was nice seeing you too. I had fun. Well, minus the universe literally shitting on me.”

A tiny smile crept onto her face. She reached into her purse, fumbling for her keys when her fingers brushed against something leather. Something that shouldn’t be there. _Wait—_

“Your wallet...” she trailed, holding up the lost-but-found item, wondering how in the world this escaped her. 

Ren’s jaw dropped for a moment until pink oddly dusted his cheeks. “Oh,” he coughed. 

Ren realized it first: the unconscious exchange between them at the restaurant. Out of habit, like an everyday ritual, she’d taken his wallet to hold it for him in her purse, knowing that walking around with bulging pockets annoyed him.

As if they were still girlfriend and boyfriend.

“Well, it looks like you found it, Inspector,” he said after an awkward beat.

They shared a nervous smile, before lingering in front of each other. Makoto didn’t know if she should speak first. 

But this was it. Though a large part of her wished they had a longer talk to close things (more like an apology from him, who was she kidding), a part of her liked the idea that maybe this was how their chapter was supposed to end: on good terms, enjoying each other’s company, smiling and laughing at each other. Something positive to look back on to move on. It’d take time, but maybe in some future, they could be good friends again. 

“Good night, Ren.”

“Good night, Makoto,” he said after a pause.

She took a step back, avoiding the awkward dance of whether they were going to hug or shake hands or bow to each other. They just nodded to one another, and that was that. They were no longer lovers, only friends, well sort of—

“Your liquor of choice is whiskey. You’re awkward. You obsess and overthink. You can be a know-it-all and that intimidates people. You can be stubborn and uncompromising. Sometimes, you take games too seriously, and people are scared to be your opponent,” Ren blurted.

Makoto spun around.

 _What is he saying?_

“Excuse me?”

“You lack finesse because you’re heavy-handed and tough. You’re a neat-freak who likes to organize everything. You get angry because you care too much and work so hard for others who don’t even deserve your best. You’re kind and patient to others but not to yourself.”

Her face wrinkled at his veiled insults. “If you’re trying to apologize, you’re failing right now—”

“—You make the best homemade meals,” he continued, taking a step closer. “You’re the smartest and most hardworking and compassionate person I know. You’re grounded in your values; everything about you is genuine. You’re a fierce badass and that drives me wild. Your curves drive me wild. You’re truly beautiful inside and out.”

Makoto stilled.

He pressed on, his hands slack at his sides. “You’re always on my team at the end of the day. You get me. You seriously get me; you always have. What I’m trying to say is...I love you. For all that you are, and then some.”

For some reason, she couldn’t look him in the eye after he said all of _that_ , her face growing warm but numb at the same time. 

He hesitated before taking another step, cradling her hand into both of his. She sucked in a breath at his touch as she remembered all over again how she craved for it, how she longed for him to stand this close. His palms were sweaty, and so unlike him, his voice trembled. 

“Makoto, please look at me. I know my words are meaningless right now. But please hear me out.”

She had no choice as he dipped his head to her level, the sheer rawness in his deep eyes striking her to the core.

“I fucked up. I am so, so sorry, Makoto. There’s nothing I can do or say that will fix my mistake. It’s my fault things are never going to be the same between us again.

“What I did was wrong. Hurting you was the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my life, and I’d give everything to take it back. I understand if you want nothing to do with me. I get it.”

She could only gawk at him, arrested in shock. 

His eyes trailed to the floor. “You were right about me. I was ignoring the work I needed to do on myself. I had underlying issues but swept it under the rug playing hero. But being with you humbled me. You push me to grow. I like who I am with you back in my life.” His lips upturned into a small smile as he gave her palm a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not expecting any sort of response. I’m not expecting anything from you, especially after what I did. I don’t deserve one. But I want you to know that I’ll never stop loving and caring about you. If you ever need anything, please call me. You’re my favorite person. You’ll always be, even if you want nothing to do with me anymore. Even when...you don’t love me anymore.” 

He looked away, as if ashamed at the way his voice scratched at the end.

“Just say the word and I won’t bring this up anymore. You deserve to move on.”

Makoto didn’t know what to think as the brokenness in his whole being echoed through her. Every word he just said, he meant it. 

Makoto knew she loved him back. Of course she loved him—she always has. 

But she couldn’t move. 

His honest, wholehearted words clanged in her ears, against the hurt and the gaping wound in the center of her heart. She blinked, eyes prickling with the tears she held back, her insides raging at the mixture of emotions he riled deep in her soul: 

Frustration and desire.

Fear and fearlessness.

Vulnerability and connectedness. 

Loneliness and love.

She didn’t register that he’d waited for a moment before he leaned in to kiss her forehead and had walked away until after he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Ren. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Feel free to [send me a message](https://ecrutea.tumblr.com/ask) on my blog—I’m always happy to discuss the story if you have questions or want further elaboration on my interpretations and character development (or if you notice any easter eggs!). Just be prepared to read walls of text when it concerns Makoto. :)


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